


Strangers

by mywordsflyup



Series: Strangers Universe [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M, Security Guard!Cullen, elven rights activist!Lavellan, minor Adaar/Dorian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I need you to kiss me because of reasons. Modern!AU.</p><p>Activist!Lavellan and Ex-Cop!Cullen fall in love and fight the establishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I need you to kiss me. Quick.”

She was tiny, just a slip of a girl, but her grip on his shoulders was firm, insistent. Before he knew what was happening, her hands had wandered up to his face, pulling him down into a kiss. At the same time she shifted her body, turned him around, until her back was against the facade of the building and he between her and the street.

A sound of confusion escaped his lips but she swallowed it with her mouth, dry and firm on his. For a second his hands brushed against her sides, aimlessly. When he finally grabbed her by the waist, he was not sure himself if it was to push her away or to hold her closer.

He heard footsteps behind him, shouts from the street, and some part of him wanted to turn around. To investigate. Old habits die hard. But the girl had other plans. With an almost inaudible sigh, she melted into him. Small hand holding on to the lapels of his uniform, body flush against his. When her tongue stroked against his lower lip, almost ridiculously cautious compared to the rest of her behavior, his restraint faltered. Hands snaking around to her lower back, he pulled her close, deepening the kiss himself. He could feel her smiling against his lips. His own tongue was caressing now, brushing against hers in confident strokes like this was what he was always meant to do. His thoughts were scattered but he felt one of her hands wandering back up and around his neck. When her fingers laced into the curls at the back of his head, heat coiled deep down inside of him, almost painful in its intensity. He could not stop the moan that built up in his chest.

The kiss was hot and almost messy now. Her soft lower lip gently nipped by his teeth. Curious intimacy with this complete stranger. He could not think straight, every clear thought fleeing from him at her touch.

When she pulled back, his lips followed hers, just a bit. Chasing, yearning for more. He was breathing hard. With his forehead still against hers, he opened his eyes only to meet her own. Bright green but wide and dark with excitement. For a moment, it was all he could see.

“What...” he managed to get out between breaths. He had no words, no voice. A wide grin slowly stretched across her face. Her tattooed face. His eyes flicked from her eyes to the delicate lines running over her cheeks and forehead. To her long, shapely ears. An elf. Of course.

Her back was still arched as she pressed against him, arms around his neck. She turned her head slightly and threw a quick look over his shoulder before focusing on him again.

“I think they are gone,” she whispered but made no move to untangle herself from him. Was he imagining things or was there a light flush on her cheeks as well? His eyes wandered back to her mouth. Lips swollen from their kiss. Some part of him, something primal and not at all reasonable, screamed at him to press his lips on hers again. Just to taste her one more time.

And then suddenly, she was out of his arms, quicker than a halla. He whirled around, trying to follow her swift movement. She stopped with her hands on her hips, scanning the street.

“Yup, all gone.” She turned back to him, that grin still on her face. “Thanks, it's been grand, ehm...” She looked at his chest. “Rutherford.” With one finger she lightly tapped against the tag that was stitched to his uniform and that all security guards were required to wear. She was close again, looking up at him. Definitely blushing now. He could have grabbed her. Could have kissed her again. Somehow he believed she would have let him.

But then she stepped back. “Thanks again,” she repeated, turned around and started walking away in a brisk pace.

“Wait!” He called after her, suddenly back in control of his voice. She stopped at the corner and looked back, one eyebrow raised. “What was that all about?”

“I just needed to get away from the cops,” she said and shrugged. Then after another second: “Also, you're really cute.” She winked at him and with that she was around the corner and gone.

Cullen leaned back against the cool roughcast wall behind him. His heart was still hammering inside his chest. Maker's breath. What had just happened? Then it dawned on him, slowly.

Elf. Cops. OH SHIT.

With a groan he fished his phone out of his back pocket and started typing.

 

– _x 11:48_

_I think I just helped an elven protester evade arrest._

 

Cassandra's reply came just a few seconds later, as always.

 

– _Cassandra P. 11:49_

_What the actual fuck, Cullen?? Call me!_

 

But he didn't. Not yet. Instead he lifted his fingers to his mouth, gingerly touching his lips where he could still feel the ghost of hers. He closed his eyes.

Fuck.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kiss strangers on the street without their permission, kids. It's not cool.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Velanna is charming as ever and Elaria is terrible at parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since a few people expressed interest in a follow-up, I decided to expand this AU a little bit. Enjoy. :)

Elaria Lavellan was not the sort of person who kissed random strangers on the street. Well, at least not while she was sober. Or without losing a bet first. But extreme times called for extreme measures. Like going to an illegal protest. And running away from the police. And grabbing that security guy who just happened to be tall and broad-shouldered enough to hide behind. All completely reasonable and logical developments and decisions.

The fact that he had been drop-dead gorgeous had kind of thrown her off her game, however. As had the fact that he had been a phenomenal kisser.

She didn't like to admit it but that kiss had left her weak in the knees. So weak that after a few twists and turns she had to duck into a dusky alley just to catch her breath. Creators, what a man. She expected a dry surprised peck. An embrace that lasted just long enough to throw the cops off her trail. But this?

Adrenaline leaving her body, she slumped against the grimy wall behind her. She could still feel the knot inside her stomach. A tightly wound ache that had shot right through her at the sound of his moan. Fenedhis, the memory alone sent another jolt to her gut.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breath. As much as every part of her screamed at her to turn around and run back to him, just to make sure she had not imagined this, it was not the time. With a last sigh she started taking off the bright red shirt she had been wearing over her white top. A cheap trick but it worked every time. For a second she considered just stuffing it into her bag but then decided against it. Too risky. Instead she tossed it into the dumpster at the end of the alley. Afterwards she twisted her long hair into a messy bun on top of her head and pinned it place with two bobby pins she had kept in the pocket of her jeans. Her little transformation would not fool anyone who was really looking for her and took the time for a second glance but it was better than nothing. And she only had to make it back home in one piece. And preferably without getting arrested.

 

* * *

 

As she stood in front of the door to the flat and looked for her keys in her bag, she saw the light on her phone blinking. Oh shit. She had completely forgotten to check in. She cursed under her breath as the screen lit up. Two missed calls and four messages. All from Velanna. Of course.

 

_–Velanna 11:12_

_Are you ok? Saw you getting taken away._

 

_–Velanna 11:14_

_Did they arrest you? If yes, delete my number._

 

_–Velanna 11:34_

_No but seriously. Call me when you get this._

 

_–Velanna 11:57_

_???_

 

Charming as always. For a moment her thumb hovered over the little call sign next to Velanna's name. She should call her and tell her she was fine. But then she would have had to explain. And Velanna was not really the sort of person who would condone kissing strange men. Especially shemlen. So she typed a short message instead.

 

_–x 12:19_

_Got away. Back home now. Long story. I'll call you later._

 

She put her phone away and unlocked the door. Even from the hallway she could hear muffled voices and music, which told her that Dorian and Adaar were already home. When she stepped into the flat, the smells of Adaar's phenomenal cooking wavered through the air and her stomach responded with a loud growl.

“Ela? Is that you?” Dorian stuck his head out of the kitchen door. “Back from saving the world already?” He grinned. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek as she passed him and entered the large open space that housed the apartment's kitchen and living area. She dumped her purse on the couch and went over to Adaar for one of his signature bear hugs.

“Just in time for lunch,” he said and let her taste some of the sauce he was preparing. It was excellent, as always.

“Good, I'm starving,” she sighed as she slumped down onto the couch and kicked her boots off her feet.

Dorian went back to the counter to cut cucumber for the salad. “What? Is all that protesting wearing you out? I thought you'd have arms of steel by now from all that banner carrying.”

“I really wish you wouldn't go to these things alone,” Adaar said, ignoring his boyfriend's remarks. “I heard that it's getting more and more dangerous. And rumors about people getting arrested.”

Elaria bit her bottom lip. Adaar's concern always made her feel a bit guilty about the risks she was taking. But she knew she was doing the right thing. Even with all the dangers.

“It's not just rumors,” she admitted. “They tried to arrest me today.” She didn't need to look up to know that the loud clanging sound she heard meant that Adaar had dropped his spoon.

“WHAT?!”

“Oh marvelous!” Dorian said and threw his hands in the air in an exasperated gesture. “You do realize that this whole hot-blooded revolutionary thing only works out for you if you're alive at the end of it?” She knew he always got this way when he was worried, but his anger still made her feel defensive.

“Well, I got away, didn't I? No need to freak out!” And then she told them everything. How she had kicked one cop in the shin and sprinted away, only to find that kicking cops just made them chase you even harder. How after a few blocks, in front of an office building, she had spotted this security guard who had seemed to be just the right size to hide behind. And how somehow her brain had made the decision that kissing him would be the only way to get out of this mess. And then how she had kissed him. And how he had kissed her. All the while she did not dare to look at her friends but when she ended and nobody said a word, she looked up. Dorian stood there, knife still in hand, with his mouth agape. Adaar could not stop shaking his head in disbelief.

“I have no idea if that's the most exciting story I've ever heard or the dumbest,” Dorian said after regaining his composure.

“I'm going to go with dumbest,” Adaar said, still shaking his head. “What were you thinking?”

“Well, I'd say she wasn't thinking much at all.” Dorian went back to cutting cucumber, with more force than necessary. “At least not with her brain.” Of course he could not swallow that remark. Or the little grin that tucked on her corners of his mouth. Adaar groaned in annoyance as he turned back to the pots on the stove.

Elaria could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and was glad when her phone started buzzing in her pocket. A distraction from the embarrassment.

 

_–Velanna 12:41_

_Good. I already got the photos up on the blog. Got some good shots of you._

 

She got up and went over to her laptop she had left of the dining table.

“Do you guys want to see some of today's pictures?” she asked, hoping to distract them from the topic at hand. No luck.

“Not at the moment, no,” Dorian scoffed. “I would like to hear more about you kissing complete strangers to avoid getting arrested though. Sounds like such reasonable fun!” She could hear Adaar mumbling something under his breath.

“There is nothing more to tell,” she said as she opened up Velanna's blog. The photos of the protest were indeed already up. She spotted herself in the third one, scarf over her face and fist raised high. Velanna never took direct photos of unmasked protesters. It was far too dangerous. There were, however, quite a few shots of the cops and of some of the altercations that had occurred during the protest. Seeing protesters being rough-handled like that made her gut twist in anger, even if it was just in pictures. These were the images the Chantry did not want the public to see. She scrolled through the rest of the photos. More masked protesters, more cops. Then suddenly something caught her eye. She scrolled back up and looked at the picture in question more closely. A strange prickling feeling spread over the base of her neck.

“Wait a second. Holy shit, I think that's him.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about now?”

Elaria opened the photo in a new tab and zoomed in. “Here. I think that's the guy I kissed!”

That finally got Dorian's attention. He put the knife down and hurried to her side. “Let me see.” It was a bad picture, made even worse through the zoom, but she thought she recognized him. Something about the way he held his head. When Dorian fell unusually silent next to her, she turned her head to look at him. He had a steep line between his eyebrows and squinted at the picture.

“You know I like grainy men as much as the next guy,” he said and Elaria gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. “But honey, that's a cop.”

Her head snapped back around. “What?”

Dorian gently tapped against the screen, pointing out the different people in the picture. “That's a cop. And that. And that one.” He was right. They were all in riot gear. “And this right next to your mysterious stranger, is Captain Cassandra Pentaghast. About as much cop as you can get.” His finger stopped on the blond head Elaria had zoomed in on. “Stands to reason that the only other guy in the picture is also, you've guessed it, a cop.”

“No no no no no.” Elaria pushed back her chair and got up, continuously shaking her head in disbelief. “No way. He's not even wearing the right uniform! He's a security guard! With a name tag and everything!”

Dorian shrugged. “Perhaps he's undercover? Now wouldn't that be exciting?”

“Don't you think I would have noticed if I was making out with a cop?” Elaria was almost yelling now, throwing her hands in her air in desperation.

“When? While you were assaulting him?” Adaar deadpanned from the stove.

“Oh, shut up. It was an emergency!”

Adaar scoffed and continued stirring his sauce. “Sure. It probably helped that he was really handsome?”

“How do you know that he was handsome?”

Adaar gave her a wicked smile. “Just guessing here.”

Elaria rolled her eyes and fell back into the cushion of the couch. This could not be happening. “That's probably not even him. Like you said, the photo is really grainy,” she told Dorian as he zoomed in and out of the picture.

“You just go on telling yourself that. It would be so like you to run away from some cops just to run into the arms of another. Let's be honest here.”

“I'm not saying you're wrong,” said Adaar as he started setting the table. “But don't be mean.”

Dorian shut the laptop and made a dismissive hand gesture. “Tsk. I'm not being mean. I'm just stating the obvious here.” He got up and sat down next to Elaria on the couch.

“How do you even know what this Pentaghast woman looks like?” she asked and wearily leaned her head against his shoulder.

“The question should be, why do you _not_ know what she looks like. Her face has been all over the news for the last couple of weeks because of these protests.”

Elaria gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I don't know. You humans all look the same to me.” That just earned her a weak smack on the thigh from Dorian. She grinned.

“Come on,” he said and made a move to get up. “Let's get some food into that poor starving body of yours.”

“And you are going out with us tonight,” Adaar said and pointed at her with a fork. “No weaseling out of it this time!”

Elaria let out an exaggerated sigh. “Do I have to? I have so much stuff to do...”

Dorian shook his head. “No excuses! We are going to The Bone Pit and you are coming with us!”

“The Pit? That place is a dump!”

“True. And very cheap. Just the right place for a poor student who still owes us last month's rent,” Adaar said, keeping a completely straight face.

“Ah, that's low!” she exclaimed but knew she had lost. “Using my guilty conscience against me!”

Dorian nudged her with his elbow. “And then we'll find you a real man. Not a cop. Someone to finally take you off our hands and who will make an honest woman out of you! Stopping you from kissing random guys on the street like a wanton wench!”

She could not help but laugh at that. “Fine,” she gave in. “But I'm not putting on heels.”

Dorian smiled innocently. “Oh, we'll see about that.”

 

* * *

 

The Bone Pit was an absolute shithole, but Adaar was right. Cheap liquor and good music made up for its location in the sleaziest part of town and for the rumors of organized crime that clung to the club like a bad taste in the mouth. Despite reports of multiple stabbings and one case of a very curious fire, the club was packed every Friday night. And this Friday night was no exception.

Elaria was happy to walk in Adaars shadow, as the big Qunari plowed his way through the crowd, Dorian just behind him. By the time the group reached the bar, Elaria was already exhausted and cursed Dorian for convincing her to put on those blighted high heels. She checked the price list stapled to the counter for something she could afford but Dorian put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

“Please let me get you a real drink,” he shouted over the booming bass of the music. “I can't watch you nurse a bottle of cheap beer all night again.” Before she could object, he had ordered for them. Gin Tonic for her, some fancy foreign beer for Adaar and sparkling water for himself. When she took the first sip, she smiled at him gratefully. This was so much better than cheap beer.

She let her gaze wander over the crowd. Right next to her a couple was making out heavily on the dance floor, bumping into the people around them as they drunkenly groped each other. Usually that sort of thing just made her gag a little bit but today it also made her remember that less than twelve hours ago she had been the one with a man's hands on her waist and her own... She clenched her fist at the memory of her fingers in his soft curls. Creators, her mouth felt dry all of a sudden. She took another big sip of her drink and leaned back against the counter of the bar.

This was ridiculous. She was still tired from everything that had happened today, her feet already hurt in these stupid shoes and to top it all off, she could not shake the memory of a guy she had only met once. And whose full name she didn't even know. And who was probably a cop. She just wanted to go home, curl up underneath a blanket and never go outside again.

“You okay?” Dorian asked and nudged her gently with his elbow.

“Yeah, just tired,” she lied and emptied her glass. “I'm going to put up some of these.” She let him see inside her purse, where she kept her protest stickers in a little side pouch. Dorian rolled his eyes and took a sip of his water.

“Well, aren't you just the party animal,” he said. “Be careful not to have too much fun.”

“Do you want some help with those?” Adaar asked. “I could put some up in the men's bathroom later?” From the way his fingers were already laced with Dorian's, Elaria could tell that he probably wished she would not take him up on that offer. She shook her head.

“No, it's fine. I won't be long. Just order another one of these for me.” She put her empty glass on the counter.

“That's the spirit!” Dorian called after her as she made her way through the crowd. He yelled something else but she was too far gone and could not hear him over the loud music.

 

* * *

 

The bathroom stalls were already plastered with stickers and posters but Elaria still thought hers stood out. A bright green background with the logo of Revas - a slender white leaf. Underneath in bold letters, their motto: “Never Again Shall We Submit”.

Elaria looked around nervously every time before putting up a sticker. Fortunately, the other women in the bathroom seemed too drunk or high to notice much beyond themselves. By now most people had at least heard about the radical elven rights group causing trouble around town and if someone had found these stickers in her possession, it would haven been enough to get her arrested.

When every stall had at least one sticker on it, Elaria left the bathroom. The hallway leading back to the main room of the club was narrow and dark. She passed more drunk people on her way back, only barely avoiding getting hit by flailing arms or getting drinks spilled on her by pressing herself against the clammy walls. She was more than ready to leave this place and to just go home. She had almost made it out, when a particularly tall human shoved her hard enough to make her stumble. Cursing her high heels once more, she threw up her arms to protect her face as she fell down. The contents of her purse spilled over the floor. Including the remaining stickers.

Her knees were throbbing painfully and she was pretty sure she had scraped her elbow on the rough plaster of the wall, but the panic that washed over her at the sight of the bright green stickers sprawled over the floor in front of her was bigger than the pain. The people around her may have been drunk, but somebody was bound to be sober enough to recognize the logo. Cursing under breath and with cold sweat building up on her forehead, she scrambled to shove her things back into her purse. With a little jump forward she grabbed the last stickers before someone could step on them.

“Excuse me, miss. But what do you think you're doing?”

Elaria froze. She had not been fast enough. The stickers were still in her hands and she had been caught.

Slowly she turned her head. Thick, black boots. Her gaze wandered up. Black pants, black vest. Creators, it just had to be Security, didn't it? She opened her mouth while still desperately rummaging through her brain for a possible excuse. But then her eyes reached his face. Blond curls that her fingers remembered all too well. Lips with that prominent scar she could still feel against her own mouth. And amber eyes that recognized her at the same moment she did.

“You!”

Well, fuck.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen is a terrible liar and Elaria continues to be slippery as an eel.

Cullen Rutherford was not the sort of man who let random strangers kiss him on the street. Well, at least that was what he had believed before that elven girl with the sparkling green eyes and the wicked grin had proven him wrong. He had also never thought he would be the kind of person to help a criminal evade arrest. Or that he would lie to his best friend and former boss about it afterwards.

But he had. And as he sat in his car on his way home, he could already feel the guilt gnawing at his insides. He was a bad liar, always had been. His sister had used to tease him about it merciless. The only possible explanation for why Cassandra had not seen through him straight away was probably that she would never expect him to tell her anything other than the truth. The realization that she trusted him blindly like that made the guilt even worse.

He wasn't even sure why he had lied to her. He only knew that when she had asked him for a description of the person he had helped escape, words had fallen out of his mouth and none of them had been true. “Male, blond, no visible tattoos.”

“And what exactly did he do to trick you into helping him?” she had asked, looking up from her notepad. All around them the last stragglers of the protests had yelled out tired, half-hearted slogans. Most of their friends had been arrested or driven off by then.

“He... He pretended to be sick. I thought he needed help.” Cassandra had written everything down, not doubting a single word. “But when the coast was clear he just ran off.”

The more he thought about it the less he could believe that Cassandra had not questioned his story at all. When he pulled up in front of his apartment building, he stayed in the car for a few more minutes – loud music blaring through the speakers to clear his mind. He knew he should have been more worried about Cassandra finding out that he had not told the truth. But for some reason he was more concerned with the reason for why had lied in the first place.

The girl. He had not wanted to give her up. He didn't even know her name but the idea of telling Cassandra about her had almost made him sick. It wasn't just the thought that she could be arrested. It was the though of sharing the memory of their kiss with anyone. It was such a silly concern, it almost made him laugh out loud. But it was true. It was like her lips had entrusted him with a secret. She had given him a private moment amid a life that had been screened and vetted from all possible angles in the last few months. He didn't know why but it felt immensely precious to him somehow.

He was distracted from this thoughts by his phone buzzing in his front pocket. With a sigh he pulled it out.

 

_–V.T. 14:37_

_H needs you at the Pit tonight. You free to fill in?_

 

Cullen leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. His head was pounding and he knew that the pain would only get worse in the next couple of hours. But he needed the money and could not afford to spurn an offer to work. He sighed again and texted back to let Varric know he would be there. At least he had a few hours to eat and sleep and maybe even take a shower. Maker knew he needed it.

 

* * *

 

He had worked as head of security at the Bone Pit a couple of times but every time he was surprised by just how much of a dump the place really was. People who only saw the club at night with dimmed lights and after a couple of drinks would probably never know, but the Pit was a death trap. Cullen found new health and safety violations every time he set foot in the club. But he wasn't here to worry about the whole place going up in flames, as likely as it was. He was here to keep an eye on all the drunk guests. And on the rest of the probably equally as drunk security team.

The club was packed but there had been surprisingly little trouble so far. The general mood was good, the music loud and Cullen's headache could have been a lot worse, all things considered. He let his gaze wander over the crowd. There were more people arriving and he considered putting one more man on door duty when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. He had worked this job long enough to spot trouble from a mile away. He turned his head. There was a commotion in the line in front of the bathrooms. Of course. Where else? With a sigh he slunk from his place in the shadows and made his way through the crowd. There was a cluster of people blocking the hallway to the bathrooms and he had to push himself through a narrow gap between the wall and a group of drunk giggling girls to reach the origin of the problem.

It was a girl. Kneeling on the ground and frantically stuffing things into her purse. He put on his best security guard voice. “Excuse me, miss. But what do you think you're doing?”

She looked up and he recognized her at once. It was as if someone had emptied a bucket of ice-cold water over his head.

“You!” Definitely not his best security guard voice anymore.

From the absolute shock on her face he could tell that she had recognized him as well. His gaze fell on the objects still on the ground and in her hands. Another ice bucket. Oh, for the love of Andraste... This could not be happening.

Before she could say anything, he bent down and ripped the stickers and the purse out of her hand. The panic on her face stung but there was no time for calming words. If any of these people were sober enough to recognize the logo on these stickers, she would be in deep trouble. Quickly he stuffed them into the pockets of his pants and looked around the floor one last time in case he had missed any. Then he took the girl by the arm and pulled her to her feet.

“Come with me,” he hissed and pushed her through the crowd, deeper down the narrow hallway. Either she was too shocked to object or she actually realized that his was her best option. He could not tell. And the end of the hallway he opened a door marked “Private” which led to a even narrower staircase to the offices above the club. He took her to the office they usually used for meetings with the whole security team and closed the door behind them. As soon as they were alone he let go off her arm and she whirled around.

If she had been shocked before she had gotten over it pretty quickly. Instead she looked defensive, guarded. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and put some distance between him and her.

“So this is a surprise,” she said but missed the casual tone she clearly was aiming for. Her voice was shaky.

“You can say that again.” He put one hand on the doorknob just to steady himself. His heart was racing and the old familiar headache began creeping back in again. But when he looked at her he could not help but notice how pretty she was. It was not something he had really gotten to appreciate when she had flung herself at him this morning. She had her auburn hair pinned up to reveal her long slender neck and put on a short white dress with lace detail at the top that stood out against the deep bronze of her skin. His eyes flicked back to her lips, a sight that made his mouth feel strangely dry. And then further up. Bright green eyes. That glared at him. Right...

He cleared his throat and forced himself to avert his eyes.

“I wasn't really expecting to see you again so soon. Or ever, really. But it's been nice. Maybe I'll see you around.” She made her way to the door while speaking, clearly meaning to bolt again. He kept one hand on the doorknob and with the other he pulled the crumpled stickers out of his pocket.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, ignoring her attempts at making another quick getaway. Her eyes flicked from his face to the stickers and back. For a second he saw the panic on her face again before she put her guard back up.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said. He sighed and pointed at one of the chairs in front of the big desk on the other side of the room.

“Sit,” he ordered and to his own surprise she did. He leaned against the desk and tried not to look at her legs as she sat down in front of him. She raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed over her chest. Perhaps she was goading him. He could not read her. Just to give himself something to do he opened her purse and pulled out her wallet.

“Are you sure that's even legal?” she asked but didn't sound particularly alarmed. He gave her a pointed look and she shrugged. There wasn't much to find. A few crumpled sovereigns and her ID. He held it up and read out loud.

“Elaria Lavellan.” He looked at her. “Is this a fake?”

She shook her head. “No, all real. Have you ever tried to fake a Dalish ID? It's a pain in the ass.”

His eyes flicked to the little green dot and the microchip in the right corner of her ID that marked her as Dalish and granted her free access to all their camps.

“So you're Dalish.” He was stating the obvious and she looked a bit amused when she pointed at her own face and the white lines drawn on her skin. “Right, sorry. The tattoos should have given it away.”

“Vallaslin”, she corrected him. He repeated it, the strange word unwieldy on his tongue. But it earned him the flicker of a smile before her face turned blank again.

“It's nice to know your name, at least,” he said and looked back at her ID. “Elaria. You know, I don't usually kiss people whose first name I don't know.”

She cocked her eyebrow, a sardonic smile curling her lips. “Really? Could have fooled me, Rutherford.” The way she uncrossed and crossed her legs made him lick his lips nervously. Somehow he could not shake the feeling that she knew exactly hat she was doing. He cleared his throat again.

“It's Cullen,” he said. “Cullen Rutherford.”

“Nice to meet you, Cullen.” The sound of his name on her lips made him squirm uncomfortably. Flashes of memory were running through his mind. Her fingers in his hair, her flushed face so close to his. When he looked at her, she gave him a slow dangerous smile. Oh, she definitely knew what she was doing. But two could play that game.

His eyes darted around the room. He needed to regain his composure before she would find a way to startle him again. His gaze fell on the crumpled stickers on the desk next to him. He picked one up and smoothed it out between his hands. Her smile faltered, just slightly.

“Do you realize how dangerous it is to carry these around with you? What in the Maker's name were you even doing with them? Putting them up around the club?”

Her smile was strained now. A poor copy of her earlier wicked grin. “I don't know what you are talking about”, she repeated.

He scoffed. “Sure. So you are telling me, if I were to dig deeper into this purse of yours, I wouldn't find more of these stickers?” She shrugged, stubborn like a child. But he saw that hint of fear in her eyes again and knew he was right. “Maker's breath.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin.

“So what?” she asked, straightening her back. The smile was completely gone. “Are you going to arrest me now?”

That stumped him. He blinked, confused. “What?”

“Well, I assume now that you've got the evidence...” There was a trace of uncertainty in her voice.

“I'm not a cop,” he said. “Why would you think that?”

A hint of pink appeared on her cheeks but she did not break eye contact. “I... You just look like a cop, that's all.” An obvious lie. She was as bad at this as he was. But something told him not to push it.

“Well, I'm not. Not anymore.” The last part slipped out before his could stop himself. She cocked her eyebrow again. Intrigued, perhaps. He had never been very good at interrogating suspects. Too rash, too impatient. But revealing personal information about himself like this was a true rookie mistake.

“So what are you doing here then?” Elaria asked. The tension in her shoulders had loosened a bit but he could see that she was still on edge. Still ready to bolt at the first chance she got.

“I work here,” he said, more guarded now. “Sometimes.”

“An ex-cop in a place like this? That's... unusual.”

Cullen was well aware of the rumors surrounding the Bone Pit. And he was even more aware of the fact that most of them were true. Most people didn't know half of what was going on behind closed doors. “The owner is an... acquaintance of mine.”

“My my, Mr. Rutherford.” She had retreated behind that flirty, guarded persona of hers again. “You get more interesting by the minute.” Her smile was unsettling, to say the least.

Cullen was not a patient man. He never had been. And this girl was as slippery as an eel. Constantly changing the mood, switching between hostile and flirty like it was nothing. He didn't like problems he could not put his finger on. That could not be solved through straight-forward solutions. Elaria kept evading the crucial question and he could feel the exasperation that usually came with his headaches building up inside of him.

“Do you know how dangerous it is to run around with these?” he asked again, trying to get back to the topic. He waved the sticker in front of her face. “If anyone had recognized the logo...”

“I appreciate the concern but I can look out for myself.” She tried to make it sound casual but there was an edge to her voice he had not heard before.

“Can you? Because this is obviously the second time in one day you've almost been caught!” he scoffed, tossing the sticker aside.

She glared at him. All pretense of flirt and charm wiped from her face. “And why do you care so much, huh?” she snapped. The anger behind her words was raw and he almost flinched. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Why _did_ he care so much? Why had he lied to Cassandra? And why had his first instinct been to scoop her up and shield her from prying eyes when he had seen her on the floor of the hallway? He could not answer her. It made no sense. He hardly knew her. And still...

She looked at him, a quizzical look on her face.

“I...” He stopped. Before he could say more, the blaring ringtone of his phone cut through the silence and saved him. Both of them flinched at the sound. “Excuse me,” he mumbled as he pulled out his phone and checked the caller ID. With a sigh he accepted the call.

“Cassandra, what do you want?” It was ruder than his usual greeting and he heard her scoffing on the other end of the line.

“Do you have a minute?” she asked. “It's about this morning.” His eyes flicked over to Elaria who still sat in her chair, stony-faced.

“Hold on,” he told Cassandra and covered the mouthpiece with one hand. “I'll be right back,” he said to Elaria who just shrugged, her mouth a straight angry line. He left the office and closed the door behind him. Out on the stairs he could hear the music from the club thumping more clearly but it was still quiet enough to understand Cassandra.

“I'm back,” he said and rubbed his forehead with one hand. The headache was getting worse.

“We haven't found that protester you helped and unfortunately none of my boys seem to remember anyone matching your description.”

Cullen could feel his heartbeat quickening. “That's... too bad,” he said. He had been found out. She knew he had lied to her. Fuck.

“I just wanted to let you know that I didn't file a report,” she said. “You were acting really strangely this morning and I know you were worried about it.”

“What?” He could hear the blood rushing in his ears.

“You seemed nervous, that's all.” She sounded more irritated now. “I just wanted you to know that you don't need to worry about it. As far as I'm concerned it never happened.”

Maker's breath. That's what she thought he was worried about? Relief and shame rushed through him at the same time. He let out a deep breath and looked at his hand. He was still holding Elaria's ID and her picture was looking back at him. Stoic green eyes. Unreadable.

“Cullen, are you alright?” Cassandra asked when he did not answer.

“Yes, yes. Eh, I'm fine.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Cassandra. That means... a lot to me.”

He could hear her sighing. “Well, okay. Just make sure it doesn't happen again.”

“It won't.” He threw a look over his shoulder to the office door. “Listen, I'm at work at the moment, so I need to cut this short. Sorry.”

“Alright.” She sounded weary, tired. Cullen's guilty conscience flared up again. “I'll call you tomorrow.” He hung up and put his phone back into his pocket. With a last look at Elaria's ID, he turned around and went back into the office.

“I'm sorry. I needed to ta–“ He stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me.”

She had left her shoes. Staggering high heels, neatly placed next to the chair where she had sat just a moment ago. Cold air rushed into the office through the narrow open window above the desk.

She was gone. Again.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaria cannot walk and Cullen cannot explain.

With a pained groan, Elaria dipped her feet into the plastic basin. When the warm water touched them, the cuts and bruises on her soles stung sharply for a few seconds before settling into a dull ache.

“I'd pity you more if this wasn't all your own fault, you know,” Adaar said as he crumbled dried leaves into the steaming water. When he crushed the herbs between his broad fingertips, their spicy scent wavered up to her – a smell that always reminded her of home. Elfroot and something else, something sharper. She could already feel the herbs soothing her aching feet. The sensation only increased as Adaar dipped his large hands into the water and infused it with a bit of his healing magic.

“I didn't really have a choice,” she explained as she leaned back against the couch cushions.

Adaar looked up at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Really? He tells you he's not a cop and that he's not going to arrest you and your first instinct is to run?”

She swatted at him half-heartedly but was too tired to put any real effort into it. Her fingertips just slightly grazed the base of his horns, which only made him grin.

“He was on the phone with his cop friend. What was I supposed to do? Wait around for her to pick me up?”

Adaar dried his hands on the towel next to him and got up. “And you are sure that's what he was trying to do? That's why he led you into his empty office? All alone?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a poor attempt to copy one of Dorian's favorite facial expressions. On Adaar it looked more like a mild stroke.  
She sighed. “Oh, I'm pretty sure _that_ was the last thing on his mind. He was all grumpy and accusatory.” She lowered her voice imitate Cullen's growl. “Don't you know how dangerous it is to carry around the logo of a wanted insurrectionist group, missy?”

Adaar rolled his eyes. “Well, he's got a point.” He stored away the elfroot in the dark wooden box in which he kept all his herbs. “I'm sorry I couldn't do more for your feet. But at least they won't get infected.”

She gave him a weary smile, waves of exhaustion rolling over her. “Thank you, Marshmallow. You're the best.”

He scoffed at the nickname but couldn't hide the little smile on his face. “I'll leave some bandages out for you. I need to leave for work now.” He circled around the couch to grab his bag from the table and bent down to kiss her on the crown of her head. “Try not to get yourself killed or arrested while I'm gone. And don't run around too much or your feet will get worse. Dorian should be back in a couple of hours.”

Elaria frowned a bit at that. Dorian had left for the library just an hour earlier but not before yelling at her about ditching them at the club the night before and walking home barefoot. He had used very colorful vocabulary.

“He's just worried,” Adaar said when he saw her face. “I'm sure he has calmed down by now. Try to get some sleep.”

Elaria nodded. She waited until Adaar had put on his coat and left, before leaning back and pinching the bridge of her nose – willing the tears pricking her eyes to go away. Her fights with Dorian were so few and so far between that they always hit her hard somehow. Or maybe it was just the exhaustion that made her unreasonably emotional.

She let her feet soak in the basin until the water went cold. When she inspected the cuts on the soles and sides of her feet, they seemed a lot smaller and less painful. She carefully dried her feet with a towel and applied some of Adaar's bandages.

With a weak tug, she pulled Dorian's fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself before curling up into a ball. She just needed sleep. To forget for a while.

 

* * *

 

“Don't you know how dangerous this is?” He looks up at her, a wicked smile slowly curling his lips. His hair is disheveled. Blond curls falling over his forehead, glistening with sweat. When she doesn't answer, he lowers his head and places as soft kiss on the inside of her thigh. His stubble gently scratches against her bare skin and she gasps. Hands reaching out. Fingers lacing in his soft hair. He moves down, painfully slow. She arches her back. Feels him murmuring the question against her skin. But there are no answers, no words left in her, no...

The world shifts. He's on top of her. His weight comfortably pushing her down into the mattress. The mattress? Her fingers graze the ground. Soft, damp moss. Fir needles. But when she looks up she sees only buildings. Towers stretching into the sky, endlessly.

“This isn't real,” she says. But he kisses her then and she doesn't care. His lips are soft and gentle. None of the urgency, none of the panic from last time. He takes his time and when she feels his tongue tracing her bottom lip, she opens for him with a sigh. Hands roaming over her body, down her sides. Fingers running over the edge of her underwear, gently teasing before wandering further down and... She gasps. Her own hand find its way back into his hair and she can feel him smiling against her lips when she tugs gently. He pulls away, just an inch. Close enough for her to still feel his hot breath on her mouth. He opens his eyes and looks at her, deeply. The sight of his amber eyes, darkened and glazed over with desire, makes her tremble in his arms. Heat pooling in her belly, between her thighs.

“Creators...” she mumbles and reaches up to claim his lips again and...

 

* * *

 

With a gasp, Elaria shot up into a sitting position. Her heart beat furiously in her chest as her hands scrambled for purchase on the soft surface of her blanket. Too soft. Too hot. Frantically she kicked at the fabric until her legs were free. Panting, she sat in the corner of the couch, eyes darting around the room. She felt like she had just awoken from the most horrific nightmare. But it had not been a nightmare...

“Oh no...” She buried her face in her hands, embarrassment creeping up on her. How could her brain be doing this to her? She pressed her thighs together against the sweet ache at the juncture of her legs and let out a shaky breath. This was ridiculous. She had seen the guy twice and this is how her brain decided to process this? Thankfully she had woken up before... Elaria hesitated. Why had she woken up? There was a faint memory, somewhere in the back of her mind. A ringing sound. The doorbell.

“Shit!” She quickly stood up only to fall back down onto the couch when pain shot through her feet. She tried again, more carefully this time. By the time she had managed to walk from the couch to the kitchen table, she heard a sharp knock on the front door. Whoever had rung their doorbell had probably been buzzed in by someone else in the building.

“One moment!” she called out and waddled into the hallway as quickly as possible, awkwardly distributing her weight to the outer edges of her feet. When she reached the door, she got on the tip of her toes to take a look through the peephole.

Cullen's face stared back at her, strangely warped through the fish eye, but still unmistakably him.

“Are you kidding me?” She had been loud enough that he could hear through the door. She could see him smiling when he recognized her voice. “Go away!” Instead he took a step closer to the door, his face now taking up the whole view from the peephole. The same face she had dreamed of just a few minutes ago. On top of her. In between her legs... She groaned and rested her forehead against the cool surface of the door. So this was a nightmare after all. How in the Dread Wolf's name had he even found her?

“I have your shoes,” she could hear him say, his voice just slightly muffled through the wood. She look through the peephole again. He was holding up her high heels so she could see.

“You can keep them. I'm sure you'll look marvelous in them.”  
To her surprise she could hear him chuckle on the other side of the door. A low, hearty sound she had not expected from him.

“Does that mean I get to keep your ID as well?”

Fuck.

Elaria pressed her eye closer to the peephole. Cullen held up the small plastic card which she recognized immediately. She let out a stream of curses that only caused him to chuckle some more. Of course. Memories from the night before rushed back to her. She had not even noticed that she had forgotten her ID. How could she have been so foolish?

For a second she was actually tempted to let him keep it. Just because it would mean she wouldn't have to face him. But it was a stupid, immature urge. She needed that ID. Elves were not allowed to enter public spaces with proper identification. Just her walk home from last night alone could have gotten her into trouble. And getting a replacement cost time and money – both of which she did not have.

She sighed. “Alright. Just give me a second. I need to put on pants.” A girl in her situation had to find pleasure in the small things and the way her comment wiped the grin off his face was definitely worth it.

Some part of her hoped that he would just give up and leave but when she returned a few minutes later, wearing shorts and one of Dorian's shirts, he was still there. With another sigh, she unlocked the door and opened it, purposefully positioning herself within the narrow gap. Cullen's eyes flicked to her legs and back to her face, so quickly she hardly noticed it. She cocked an eyebrow.

“So?” She held out her hand. “ID?”

But he wasn't thrown off his game so easily this time. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and smiled. “Did I wake you up? You look really flushed.”

Without thinking about it, one of her hands shot up to her face and gingerly touched her hot cheek. That blighted dream... She cleared her throat and tried her best to keep her face straight. She could see him taking it all in. The bedhead, the man's shirt, the flushed face. She probably looked like a complete mess. He, on the other hand, looked well put together even out of uniform, wearing jeans and a pullover in a deep red color.

When she looked back at his face, she noticed that his smile had faltered a bit. “You're not alone.” It wasn't a question as much as a statement. She frowned, confused.

“What?” Then she thought about it again. The bedhead. The man's shirt. Her flushed face. Oh. Blood rushing to her cheeks, the shook her head fervently. “No! No, I'm alone.” That was probably also not the smartest thing to tell the strange guy at your door. But was else was she supposed to say? That he was the reason for her heated face? Or rather a very naked, intimate dream version of him? Oh damn it. She opened the door a little bit wider so he could see the empty apartment behind her.

His smile returned, a little bit more cautiously now. “So don't you want to invite me in?”

“Not particularly, no.”

He shrugged. “I mean, we can also discuss you illegal activities out here, if you prefer that.”

She gave him the best glare she could muster up before moving to the side so he could enter. With an almost ridiculously dazzling smile, he went past her and into the hallway. He seemed different today, she thought as she followed him into the living area. More relaxed. And that little angry steep line between his eyebrows was nowhere to be seen.

The way he looked around the room made her nervous. Perhaps it was a police thing – taking in everything. Making her feel like she couldn't hide anything from him. He put down her shoes by the coffee table. When his gaze fell on Adaar's wooden box on top, Elaria could see him stiffen, just slightly.

“Are you a mage?” he asked without looking at her. There was something wary in his voice.

“No,” she said. “My roommates are.” His reaction surprised her. She had heard about people being uneasy around magic but they were usually older. Mages nowadays were hardly powerful enough to warm up a cup of tea, let alone throw a fireball at someone's face. The veil was too thick now.

But before she could say anything, he turned around. Perhaps she had just imagined his unease because he looked perfectly comfortable now.

“You know, I have been rejected by women before but none of them have climbed out of a window to get away from me. This was a first.”

His casual tone just made her more nervous. “Maybe you should get used to it.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her eyed flicked to the ID he still held in his hand.

“You're not planning to climb out of your own apartment, are you?” He cocked one eyebrow.

“That depends,” she said, every muscle in her body tense. “Have you told your cop friends where I live?”

He sighed. “I've told you, I'm not a cop. And I'm not here to arrest you.”

“But you're friends with Cassandra Pentaghast, right? She called you last night. Don't even try to deny it.” She had slowly circled around the couch while they had been talking. She would not be able to run, not with her feet banged up like this. But she might be able to make it to her room, lock the door and get out over the fire escape, if she needed to.

But when she looked at him, the confusion on his face was slowly wiped away by understanding.

“Maker's breath... That's why you ran away?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “You thought I'd tell her you were at the club?” He walked over to the dining table and slumped down onto a chair. Elaria kept standing despite her throbbing feet.

“Well, can you blame me?” She bristled with irritation. The way he moved around the apartment so confidently made him seem bigger somehow. And that was not an easy feat given that the place had been furnished with a 7 foot tall Qunari in mind.

It took her a moment to realize that he was laughing. It was a strangely joyless sound as he leaned back in the chair and looked at her wearily.

“You really thought I would rat you out.” He sounded disappointed and she could not believe the tiny twinge of guilt she felt in her gut. Of course she had thought he would call the police on her. He had told her himself that he used to be a cop. What else was she supposed to think?

“Does that mean you didn't tell your friend you saw me at the Pit last night?”

Another joyless laugh. “She doesn't even know you exist. I didn't tell her about... yesterday morning either.”

Elaria scoffed. A lie, finally. “I saw photos of you talking to her after the protest. Do you honestly expect me to believe you didn't tell her about me?”

“Well, it doesn't matter if you believe me or not. It's true. I lied to her. Gave her a false description.” Something like hurt flashed across his face. Guilt maybe. “That's why I came here. To tell you that they don't know about you. And because of this.” With a swift hand motion, he slid Elaria's ID over the tabletop in her direction.

“You... You came here to put my mind at ease?” It sounded even more ridiculous as she said it out loud. He shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on his own hands.

“I guess it doesn't matter now.” She could not believe that him looking so sad actually made her feel guilty. There was still a possibility that he was lying. But if he had told the police about her, wouldn't they have come for her by now? Why should they send him instead? Her mind was racing. But if he was actually telling the truth...

“You know I'm part of Revas, right?” she asked, one hand holding on tightly to the back of the couch.

He looked up. “I figured as much when I saw you with the stickers, yes.”

“And you know that the Chantry has declared us a threat to the city's security? What the police has been ordered to do with us if they catch us?”

He gave her small sad smile. “There is a reason why I'm not a cop anymore, Elaria.” He looked so weary, so defeated. For just a split-second, Elaria felt her heart well up with such tenderness for this stranger in front of her, it took her breath away.

“Cullen,” she said, the name strange and new on her tongue. Without thinking she took a step forward. Pain shot through her foot. She had been standing for too long. Wincing, she clutched the back of the couch to keep herself from falling.

“What is it?” He jumped up from his chair and hurried to her side. “You're hurt!” He circled an arm around her waist to hold her up as she slumped against him.

“It's nothing,” she protested through gritted teeth but he was already helping her around the couch. With a groan she let herself fall into the cushions.

“Your feet,” he said as he knelt next to her and examined the bandages. “What happened?”

“I may have lost my shoes somewhere last night.” She tried a grin but it didn't feel very convincing. The steep line between his eyebrows was back. The same one she had seen the night before when he had reprimanded her for the stickers. The realization hit her like a slap in the face. It wasn't anger. I was worry.

Oh, this was so much worse.

He helped her prop up her feet on a cushion. When his finger brushed against the bare skin of her leg, flashes of her dream came rushing back to her. Creators, she could not start blushing again.

“Why do you keep helping me?” she blurted out, loud enough to startle him. Thankfully also loud enough for him to let go of her leg and sit down on the edge of the coffee table. At a safe distance from her. He looked at her, a quizzical look on his face. “I mean, you don't know me. And I sort of assaulted you yesterday and you still lied for me. And then at the Pit. You could have, I don't know, left me there. You keep helping me and I was just wondering...” She was babbling now and definitely blushing. Unfortunately running was officially not an option anymore.

For a moment he didn't say anything, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. Then he sighed.

“Honestly? I don't know.”

Elaria didn't know what sort of answer she had expected. But that wasn't it. “You don't know,” she repeated sheepishly.

“You keep falling into my life and I can't shake the feeling that there must be a reason for that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and avoided looking at her, a hint of pink rising in his cheeks.

“Divine intervention then?” she asked with a small smirk. “Are we just fated to run into each other from now until eternity?”

He laughed at that, a quiet chuckle. “Only if you keep running away from me.” There was something more behind his words, a prickling feeling that made the hairs on her arms stand up. When he finally looked at her, the air between them was thick. Perhaps she was just imagining it. A leftover feeling from her dream. Nothing but an illusion, a silly fancy. But when she bit her bottom lip, he mirrored the motion – a sight that made her feel a bit light-headed.

“You're pretty bold,” she said, her voice shaky and strangely loud in the tense silence.

He didn't take his eyes off her. “Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are.”

Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. She felt ready to burst with laughter or screaming or perhaps both. She didn't care that it made no sense. She didn't care that they had only just met, really. She only knew that if he were to move now, if he were to touch her again...

The loud croaking of a frog cut through the silence.

Elaria nearly jumped out of her skin. Cullen looked like someone had slapped him awake.

“It's my phone!” Elaria explained quickly as she twisted her body to get to her purse. It was next to the couch but too far away from her to reach. She almost fell from the couch in her efforts but Cullen was quicker. He fished the phone out of her purse's side pocket and gave it to her. She looked up at him while the awkward frog sound still blared loudly. “Sorry about the ringtone,” she said sheepishly.

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “You should get that.”

She looked away, face burning. “It's just a text,” she mumbled and hoisted herself into a sitting position to read it.

“That's your ringtone for a text?”

Why did she even feel the need to defend herself in front of him? “It's just a joke. One of my frie–”

She stopped in the middle of her sentence as the text popped up on her screen. All of a sudden, she felt sick.

Perhaps it was her sudden silence or perhaps she looked as shocked as she felt, but Cullen crouched down next to the couch and looked at her with worry in his eyes.

“What is it?” he asked and lightly touched her shoulder.

Dread crept its way up her spine with ice-cold fingers. But this was no time for panic. She looked up into his face. His stupid handsome ex-cop face. This also wasn't a time for pride. She swallowed.

“You don't happen to own a car, by any chance?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adjusted the rating to M because very mild sexy dream time. I don't think I'll go explicit in this fic so the rating should stay at M from now on. 
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen aids more fugitives and Elaria is just an average-sized fish. A trout, perhaps.

"You don't happen to own a car, by any chance?"

Cullen looked at her, startled. This was not something he had expected. But she looked so worried, so pale.

"I do," he said. "What is this about?"

She chewed on her bottom lip and stared at him while she contemplated. He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head as she figured out just how much she could trust him.

"You said, you left the police because of, uh, what they have become, right?"

He nodded. It wasn't exactly the truth but it also wasn't far from it.

"Would you be willing to go a step further than that? Just since once?"

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. He should have seen this coming. "I take it this has something to do with Revas?" he asked, careful not to sound too negative right away.

"Yes. I won't lie to you." She hoisted herself into a sitting position and looked at him intensely. "It's probably dangerous and you will be aiding wanted criminals." He let out an exasperated laugh but she raised her hand to show she was not finished yet. "But you will also be helping people. Elves. Me." The last added word wasn't more than a whisper and he could see some color creeping back into her cheeks.

He didn't know what to say. His hands had gotten sweaty and he nervously rubbed them on his jeans. But before he could answer, she shook her head.

"No, scrap that last part. I wouldn't want you to do it for me. But it's the right thing, I promise."

He took a deep breath and studied her face. There was not a trace left of the gruff, sarcastic girl he had found when she had opened her apartment door. She was focused now, an earnest sincerity in her eyes that almost scared him. He could see it. Why someone like her would work for a group like Revas. And how someone like him could fall in too deep so quickly.

"Would I need to hurt anyone?" he asked calmly.

She looked startled. "What?"

"If I came with you. Would I need to hurt anyone tonight? Hit them? Stab them? Run them over with my car?"

She furrowed her brow. For a second, he could not read her at all as she searched his face. Perhaps for a trace of insincerity. Then her expression softened suddenly.

"No," she said quietly and leaned forward to put a hand on his arm. "I would never ask that of you." His eyes flicked to her hand and back to her face. He nodded.

"Alright. Then I will come with you."

She looked honestly surprised. “Just like that? You just trust me?”

"Well, you trusted me enough to ask, didn't you?" He tried a small smile and the tension in her face almost vanished for a moment. Then she pulled her hand away, as if she had only just realized that she was still touching him. Quickly she looked around the room, perhaps so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"Okay, but I need proper clothes first," she said and swung her legs around to sit up. He immediately got up to hold her back.

"You can barely walk," he reminded her, pushing her back in to the cushions.

She tried to swat his hands away. "It's fine! Just hand me that box." She pointed to the carved wooden box next to him on the coffee table. He had seen enough Magi boxes in his life to recognize one when he saw it. He hesitated for a moment. Familiar dread spreading in his stomach and the hairs on his forearms standing up. He did not want her to notice, not yet. With another shaky intake of breath, he picked up the heavy box and handed it to her. He didn't think she had noticed his hesitation and if she did, she was too busy with the contents of the box to say anything.

He craned his neck a bit to look inside. Just herbs. And a few pills. Relief washed over him and he let himself fall back onto the table while she rummaged through a few bundles of dried leaves and roots. When she finally pulled out three small inconspicuous packets, she shot him a last uncertain look.

"Since you're not a cop, you won't bust me for these, right?" she asked and he took a closer look at what she was holding. He recognized elfroot seeds and painkillers so strong they were barely legal in Tevinter. The other herb even he didn't know and he thought he had seen everything during his time with the police.

He shook his head. "No, but I won't let you drive either."

She grinned and chugged two of the pills with water from a bottle that had stood next to the couch. "Funny. I had sort of hoped you would take over those duties for me tonight." She put a couple of seeds in her mouth and chewed. The bitter taste made her scrunch up her face but she swallowed anyway. "Good. Now clothes. You stay here. I'll be right back."

She got up by holding on to the armrest and for a moment she just stood there, a bit shaky on her feet. He knew that elfroot seeds worked fast and after a few seconds she started walking towards a wooden door on the other end of the room.

When she came back, she had swapped the man's shirt and her shorts for black jeans and an equally dark hoodie. Somehow she had also managed to cram her mangled feet into a pair of sneakers and was only wincing a little bit as she walked towards him. She pulled the hood over her head, hiding her wavy auburn hair underneath.

"You look like a criminal," he said.

She winked at him, a gleam of the stranger who had kissed him yesterday morning back in her pale face. "That's sort of the point. And you really shouldn't say that so appreciatively. One could think you actually enjoy this."

With a deep sigh, he got up from the table. "Something tells me we haven't even gotten to the good part yet."

She pulled a black backpack from the cupboard behind the dining table and started stuffing it with packets from the Magi box. "And you'd be very correct in that assumption, Mr. Rutherford." She straightened up and shouldered the backpack. "Are you ready to aid and abet some more fugitives?"

 

* * *

 

Cullen parked the car in a quiet street in the industrial park on the outskirts of the city. The drive had been quiet – the silence only interrupted by Elaria giving him directions from time to time. She had not said much else. Whenever he had looked over to her, she had been gnawing on her bottom lip, looking straight ahead or at her phone. Worry clung to her like a thick fog. The closer they had gotten to their destination, the more anxious she had seemed.

Even now she did not move, made no attempt to get out of the car. Her leg was twitching nervously and he had to fight the urge to put a hand on her knee just to calm it down.

“When we get there don't tell people who you are,” she said suddenly and he gave her a sideways glance. She was still looking straight ahead, kneading her hands in her lap. “I mean, don't tell them you used to be a cop. Even if they ask. Just lie, if you have to.”

“I'm not very good at that. Lying, I mean.”

“Well, you have to try,” she snapped but immediately covered her face with her hands. “I'm sorry. It's just...”

He let go of the steering wheel and put his hand on her arm, just lightly. “It's okay. I won't say anything.” She looked at him then, finally.

“Thank you,” she said quietly and sighed. “I'm not really a big fish among these people. In Revas. More like an average-sized fish. A trout, perhaps.” She tried for a dry laugh and he humored her with a grin.

“Should we take a look at that pond then?”

She sighed again but gave him a small anxious smile. “Alright. Let's go.”

They got out of the car and made their way down the street before turning left into a narrow alley. It was fully dark by now and the streets were deserted. Cullen had to admit, the industrial park was the perfect hiding spot for the protesters. There was nobody around for miles who could have noticed anything out of the ordinary, unless they were looking for the group specifically.

They went through an open iron gate that led to a yard with several large warehouses. They all looked the same to Cullen but Elaria seemed to know exactly where she was going. She headed straight for a building on their right and Cullen followed silently.

When they reached the door, a figure stepped out of the shadows, so fast Cullen hardly had time to react. He leaped forward in front of Elaria, more an instinct than a clear decision, and raised his arm just in time to intercept a fist that was clearly meant for his face. The punch was hard and he grunted as pain shot up his arm. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the metallic gleam of a knife and twisted his body away from it while at the time grabbing the attacker by the shoulder and pushing them a few feet away from him, just to get some space between them.

It was a woman. A tall blonde elf, with pale tattoos – no, vallaslin – on her face and cold fury in her eyes. She was in a crouched position, ready to attack again, when her gaze fell on Elaria and she stopped.

“Elaria? Is that you?”

Elaria pushed back her hood and let her hair fall free over her shoulders. “Creators, yes, of course it's me. Why the hell are you attacking us?” She sounded more annoyed than shocked. But then again, she wasn't the one whose arm was still throbbing painfully after that blow.

“Why in the dread wolf's name are you turning up here with a shem? I texted you that this was an emergency!” She kept her eyes on Cullen and her body tense with suspicion.

“Relax, Velanna,” Elaria said and pushed herself between him and the woman. “That's why I brought him. He's, uh, a friend.”

The woman, Velanna, shot him another wary glance but then slowly put the knife back into her pocket.

“And you trust him?” she asked.

Elaria scoffed. “Would I have brought him otherwise? Now tell us what's going on!”

Velanna was obviously not fully convinced but she relaxed a bit and led them into the warehouse. When he followed through the door, Cullen noticed that the lock had been broken, so they could add trespassing as the first point on the list of crimes they would very likely be committing tonight.

Inside, the light was dim but he could see several big machines covered with plastic sheets lining the walls. In one corner, a group of people huddled around a workbench. The rest of Revas, he assumed. To his surprise, he counted two dwarves and a human among them. He had always thought that the group would be entirely elven. They were quiet, tension palpable in the air.

When they got closer, he saw that there was a person lying on the workbench. A young man, seemingly unconscious. Another elf.

“Loranil?” Elaria hurried to the man's side and took his hand. “What the fuck happened?” He did not respond. A young elven woman who had been standing next to the workbench put a hand on Elaria's shoulder and pulled her back. She was even shorter than Elaria, with dark brown hair and elaborate vallaslin on her cheeks, forehead and chin.

“He was shot,” she said in a soft voice and wiped sweat from her face with the back of her hand. “Velanna and I keep taking turns healing him but it's not enough.” No wonder she looked so pale and tired.

“Can you use any of this?” Elaria showed her the contents of her backpack but the woman shook her head.

“He needs a real doctor. Everything else is just useless by now.” Right in that moment, blood started spurting out of a hole in the man's shoulder.

“Fenedhis!” Velanna cursed and jumped forward to press her hands on the wound. Healing magic flowed from her hands into the man's shoulder and it stopped the bleeding but she kept her hands in place just in case.

The other woman looked around and gave Elaria a quizzical look. “Where is Adaar? Didn't you bring him?”

Elaria shook her head. “He's at work. He won't be home until morning.”

It was only then that the woman seemed to notice him. “And who is this? A doctor, I hope?”

“No, but he has a car.” Elaria was already busy tending to the man on the workbench again, absent-mindedly waving in Cullen's general direction.

“Next best thing, I suppose.” The woman smiled and offered Cullen her hand. “I'm Merrill.”

“Cullen.” The way she looked at him was not as suspicious as Velanna's initial reaction had been but he saw a certain shrewdness in those big green eyes that seemed to see right through him.

“Nice to meet you.” She cocked her head, a curious expression on her face. “So how do you kno–”

“Cullen!” Elaria called out. “A little help here?”

Grateful for the interruption, he stepped around Merrill and up to the workbench.

“Hold him down. This will hurt,” Velanna said and pointed at the patient's legs. Cullen nodded and went around the bench. From this angle he got the first real look at him.

“Maker's breath, he's just a kid!” he said as he looked upon the pale, sunken face. It was difficult for him to tell the age of elves sometimes, but this one was definitely still a teenager.

“He's fifteen,” Elaria said, her expression unreadable as she pressed down on the boy's torso. Cullen shook his head in disbelief and almost missed his cue to hold down the boy's legs. Velanna held her hands over the wound and the blue light of her healing magic illuminated the room. After a few seconds she added another spell, like a green vine that crept into the boy's skin. A loud groan rose from his throat and he began thrashing around in agony.

“Hold him still!” Velanna barked and Cullen leaned more of his weight on the skinny legs underneath him. A few seconds later, it was over. The boy slumped back onto the bench, his body going slack. Velanna stepped back, slowly taking her hands off the wound.

“This should stop the bleeding for a while. But we really need to get him to a real doctor. I can't see how much internal damage the bullet has caused.” She stumbled slightly and Elaria grabbed her by the arm to hold her steady. “It's nothing,” she mumbled. “I just used too much mana.” A thin film of sweat coated her forehead and her hands were shaking.

Elaria craned her neck and called out to Merrill who was speaking in a hushed but urgent voice to the two dwarves a few feet away. “We need a lyrium potion over here!”

 _Oh no_.

Merrill looked up and nodded. “There should be one in my bag under the bench.”

Elaria pulled the little vial out of the bag at her feet and helped Velanna to unscrew it. It was the weak commercial stuff they sold to mages who didn't work in any Chantry-regulated fields, but in the stale air of the warehouse, the smell still hit Cullen like a punch to the gut. It was a sharp, metallic scent. _Blue_ , Cullen thought. And it pricked at every single nerve ending in his body at the same time. The ache, a feeling he had almost forgotten, overwhelmed him like a wave pulling his body away from shore. He stumbled back, trying to get away from the smell. His hip hit the bench and caused it to rattle loudly in the silence.

He could feel their eyes on him as he wiped away the cold sweat that had built up on his forehead. Confusion. Suspicion, even. Would they know? How could they not see straight through him? Would Elaria...

He looked to her and found her frowning. She seemed confused but there was a hint of worry in her eyes as well. Somehow that just made it worse. He averted his eyes, waiting for her to say something. For anyone to say something. But in that moment, the door to the warehouse flew open and drew the attention of the room away from him. He looked up.

A tall man, a human, with dark hair and darker stubble hurried inside and closed the door behind him. Velanna untangled herself from Elaria and walked towards him.  
“Nathaniel!” she called out and hugged him briefly. It was an unexpected sight but Cullen was glad for every distraction. He discreetly straightened back up and wiped the remaining sweat from his face. Without the lyrium smell right next to him, it was easier to think. _It has just taken me by surprise_ , he told himself. _Nothing more_.

Velanna guided the newcomer back to their group. He had a sharp features, a beaked nose and the same suspicious expression in his eyes as Velanna. It was not difficult to see why they would get along.

“I called the Clinic,” he said. “He waits up for us if we move fast.”

“How are we supposed to move him?” one of the dwarves asked, a redheaded weathered-looking man. “We can't carry him all the way to Lowtown.”

“Cullen has a car,” Merrill said in a tone that bordered on cheerful.

Nathaniel frowned. “Who?”

“Elaria's friend.” Velanna nodded in Cullen's direction and Nathaniel shot him a sharp look.

“What is this? Bring-your-random-friend-to-secret-meetings day? What the fuck, Elaria?”

For a moment, Cullen thought Elaria would cave. She was clearly intimidated by this man. But then she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“It was an emergency, wasn't it?” she asked coldly. “And without him we would have no way to take Loranil to the Clinic. So what will it be? Should I send him and his car home? Let Loranil bleed out on this bench?”

It was bold and from the surprised looks of the others Cullen could tell that she did not talk to Nathaniel in that way often. Maybe not ever.

Nathaniel clenched his jaw but then he nodded. “Alright. You take him to the Clinic. But if anything goes wrong, it's on your head, Elaria.”

“Believe me, Velanna has made that abundantly clear already...”

 

* * *

 

Cullen carried the boy, Loranil, himself. His skin felt cold and clammy. He must have lost a lot of blood already. Velanna had volunteered to come with them but Cullen suspected that it was more to keep an eye on him than to help them.

They lay him down across the backseat and Velanna climbed in next to him, putting his head on her lap.

“What happened to him?” Elaria asked as she sat down in the passenger seat. “I don't understand how he got shot. We never take him anywhere dangerous.”

Velanna shot her an irritated look. “You don't need to go somewhere dangerous nowadays to get shot, Elaria.” She sighed and gently brushed her fingers across Loranil's temple. “He was hanging up flyers at the university. When the cops wanted to arrest him, he ran.”

Cullen pulled the door shut behind him and turned around in his seat to look at her. “That's why they shot him?”

“He may have tried to punch one of them in the face,” she said and shrugged. “Still not a reason to shoot a fifteen-year-old kid in the back, is it?”

“Maker's breath.” Cullen turned back around and stared out of the windshield in front of him. The more he heard about the police's treatment of the protesters, the less sense the whole thing made to him. None of it sounded like an order Cassandra would give. Or any of the city's captains, for that matter.

“We should get going,” Elaria said, ripping Cullen out of his thoughts. He nodded quickly and reached for his keys, when a flash of light in the street just in front of him caught his attention. He blinked and leaned forward to see more clearly. There it was again. A ray of light, bobbing up and down as it wandered over the other parked cars and facades of the buildings lining the street.

“Get down!” he hissed and grabbed Elaria by the shoulders to push her down. “Someone's coming. They have flashlights.”

Elaria slid from her seat into the foot well. “Cops?” she asked as she curled herself into a tight ball.

“I can't see, but that would be my guess, yes.” He leaned over into her seat until his face was just inches from hers. It was an uncomfortable position, his torso twisted almost painfully, but nobody would see him from outside the car unless they shone their flashlight right through the windows. He could hear Velanna curse under her breath but from the muffled sound of it, he assumed that she had assumed a similar position over Loranil's body in the backseat.

It was dark in the car and when turned his head towards Elaria, she looked at him with wide eyes. Wide, glowing eyes.

_Fuck._

He had completely forgotten about that. Those elven eyes would shine like beacons for everyone who was looking for them.

“Close your eyes,” he said quickly. “You in the back as well!”

For a second, Elaria hesitated but then she closed her eyes and slouched down even further. Her breathing was fast all of a sudden, fear finally catching up with her. His own heart was beating so loud, he was surprised the sound of it didn't echo through the car. There would be no way to explain this if they were caught. Only two possible outcomes: Staying hidden or being dragged from the car to Maker knew what fate.

Suddenly he felt her fingers on his hand. He looked up. She still had her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted to allow for her ragged breathing to be as quietly as possible. He could see the fear in face, the tiny beads of cold sweat on her forehead. But her hand gently squeezed his, a reassurance for him as much as for herself.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I never should have brought you into this mess.”

“Don't be. You told me this could get dangerous, right? I had fair warning.”

His words made her smile, even if just a little bit, and he could feel her thumb stroking across his knuckles. It was such an unexpectedly tender gesture, he felt the pleasant shiver running down his spine despite their situation.

A loud thump from outside the car cut through the silence and they all jumped. Elaria bit down on her bottom lip to keep quiet and Cullen prayed to the Maker that Loranil would remain unconscious. But there was no sound from the back, safe for the boy's labored breathing. It was quiet enough for Cullen to hear the voices as the people outside moved closer to the car.

For a moment, he thought that the blood rushing in his ears made it difficult for him to make out the words but then he realized they were not speaking the Common Tongue. That was unusual for police, to say the least. He perched his ear and listened more closely. It was a harsh-sounding language, not unpleasant but strange. Qunlat.

“They are not cops. Qunari, I think,” he whispered to Elaria but apparently loud enough for Velanna to hear him in back of the car.

“Fuck,” she hissed. “That's even worse!”

Elaria didn't open her eyes but a deep line had appeared between her eyebrows. By now, he knew that expression. She was thinking, working out a way around the problem. But suddenly he could see all color draining from her face. She squeezed Cullen's hand with such intensity it was almost painful.

“The will smell us!” she whispered urgently, panic now plain on her face.

“What? What do you mean, smell?”

He could see that she was struggling with the decision whether or not to open her eyes. “It's a Qunari thing. Adaar told me. They will be able to smell the blood.”

Cullen cursed under his breath and turned his head. Even from this position he could see the rays of flashlights dancing over the walls and cars outside. It was only a matter of time until they were close enough to shine into their car directly.

His choices had shrunk down to one. Hiding wasn't an option anymore. The only way out was through. With his mind racing, he took a quick look around the car before carefully fishing his car keys out of his pocket.

"Stay down," he whispered to Elaria. "And whatever happens, hold on."

Before she had the chance to say anything, he put the key into the ignition and peeked over the dashboard. He could make out two figures in the dark, both with big winding horns growing out of their skull. Definitely Qunari.

Before she had the chance to say anything, he turned the key, praying that the car would start. _Don't leave me hanging now, you rusty piece of shit._ He almost let out a cheer when the car sputtered to life. The sound of the motor roared loudly in the silence and he could see the two men in the street turning. But he would not give them the time to react. Still hunched down deep in his seat, he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. The car shot forward with a start that threw him back into the seat. He steered sharply, causing the wheels to screech on the asphalt. The Qunari were big, like most of their people, but they were no match for a charging car. Cullen saw them jumping out of the way just in time as he rushed by them. There was no time to see if they got back up. Or if they started the chase immediately.

They took the turn around the next corner too quickly. The wheels were screeching again. He heard Elaria's breath being knocked out of her as she was thrown around roughly down in the foot well. An angry string of curses sounded from the backseat and he could see in the rear view mirror that Velanna was sheltering Loranil's body with her own to save him from the worst of the wild drive.

After a few twists and turns, Cullen felt confident that he knew where he was going and how to get out of the industrial park. He kept up the speed, regularly checking for headlights appearing behind him in the mirror. But the streets remained dark and empty. After about five minutes he took a turn and drove onto the highway that curved around back to the inner city. Leaving the emptiness and the cold of the warehouses behind him, he was relieved to see the familiar string of cars on the highway. He slowed down to a comfortable speed and relaxed a bit. When he looked to Elaria, he almost laughed out loud.

"You can open your eyes again," he said and snorted. She did and gave him an irritated look before crawling back up into her seat. He tried to smooth his voice to a calmer tone. "Are you alright? Did you get hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said and buckled up. "Although I'll probably wake up with a few bruises tomorrow morning."

"At least you'll wake up at all," he said and forced himself to look straight ahead. The severity of the situation they had just escaped slowly dawned on him.

"We're fine as well," Velanna said coldly. "Thanks for asking."

Elaria turned around in her seat. "How is he?"

"Well, the driving hasn't made it better," Velanna said and shot Cullen an angry look through the rear view mirror. "But he's also not worse," she relented, a bit softer. "We just really need to get him to the Clinic now."

Elaria nodded and turned back around. "But why in the Creators' names would those Qunari be looking for us?"

"That's what I would like to know as well," Cullen said, keeping his eyes on the road. "I thought you were running from the police."

Velanna sighed. "They are mercenaries. They have been after us for a few weeks now."

Elaria's head snapped back around. "Why don't I know about this?"

"You weren't really around for most of our nighttime stuff, Ela." There was a hint of reproach in Velanna's voice that Cullen couldn't quite place. But when he looked at Elaria from the corner of his eye, he knew that they had to be more to that seemingly innocent remark. An angry flush of color had spread on her cheeks.

"Who even hires mercenaries in this day and age?" he asked quickly, hoping to change the topic. "That sounds all a bit ridiculous to me."

"The Chantry, apparently."

Cullen almost crashed into the car in front of him out of shock. "What?!" He wanted to turn around, see if there was any indication in Velanna's face that she was joking. It just couldn't be.

Elaria seemed just as surprised as him. "Are you saying the Chantry is hiring Qunari mercenaries to take out Revas members in cloak-and-dagger operations?"

"It's not just Revas," Velanna said. "Other elves as well. And humans and dwarves. Really anyone even slightly sympathetic to our cause. Although Nathaniel suspects it goes even further. Some people have gone missing under similar circumstances in the last few months, but they had nothing to do with us at all. They probably just pissed off the Chantry in some other way. Nowadays that's enough."

Silence fell over the car. Cullen could not believe what he was hearing. He knew what the Chantry was capable of. And he knew that they had lost their way. Had started to take things to extremes. Maker knew he had experienced these extremes firsthand. But this? Hiring Qunari to do their dirty work wasn't just illegal. It went against everything they preached. If this was true... It would destroy the Chantry if it ever came out.

Elaria was the first to break the silence. "You should have told me. This is... huge." She turned around in her seat again, as far as her seatbelt allowed her to. "I assume Fen'Harel knows about this?"

Velanna scoffed. "Of course he does." Suddenly she leaned forward and put a hand on Cullen's shoulder. "Take the next exit."

He did as she asked and after a few minutes entered the Southern end of Lowtown, a part of the city Cullen still knew well from his time with the police. Back then the area had been a focal point for drugs, criminality and bitter wars between the Carta factions. Nowadays you were more likely to find a hip coffee shop on every corner than a drug dealer. Even now the sidewalks were still filled with people, mostly students, on their way to some club or bar. It got less busy as Velanna directed them trough narrower side streets and alleys.

When they finally reached their destination, a large brick building with shuttered windows, the street was completely empty. This looked more like the Lowtown he remembered. Rundown houses and garbage piling up on the sidewalks. When he got out of the car, a tabby cat slunk from behind a trashcan, shot him a suspicious look and vanished around the corner into an alley.

“This doesn't really look like a clinic,” he remarked to Velanna who had already started walking up the steps to the front door of the building.

“Looks can be deceiving,” she said over her shoulder and knocked on the door. Elaria stayed back with Cullen, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“I've never been here before myself,” she explained when she noticed his quizzical look. “I'm not really one to run into situations headfirst when I don't know the people involved.”

He snorted, he couldn't help it. But before he could open his mouth to tell her how ridiculous that sounded coming from the girl who has kissed him just two seconds after meeting him, the door opened, just a few inches.

Velanna said something he could not make out, but it had to have been the right thing because after a second of hesitation, the door swung open wide and a man stepped out onto the street. He was tall, almost ridiculously so, with shoulder-length blond hair and dark circles underneath his eyes that were almost painful to look at. He surveyed the scene with the trained eyes of someone used to sort through chaotic situations in seconds and came down the steps to the car.

“Where is he?” he asked.

Elaria jumped forward to open the car's back door. Loranil was still unconscious but at least Velanna's magic had been enough to stop the bleeding until now. The man knelt down and felt for the boy's pulse and temperature before taking a quick look under the bandage.

“Bring him inside,” he said as he straightened back up and shot Cullen a short, somewhat wary look. “You look strong enough.” He vanished back into the house, with Velanna in tow.

With Elaria's help, he heaved the boy out of the car, careful not to rip open his wound again. At the movement, Loranil groaned quietly and his eyelids fluttered for a moment, but then he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Cullen carried him into the house and down a dark, musky-smelling hallway. At the end there was another door, slightly ajar. When Elaria pushed it open for him, he was almost blinded by the harsh fluorescent light that illuminated the room. The sharp smell of disinfectant immediately crawled up his nostrils. He could see now why they called this the Clinic. White tiled floor and walls reflected the cold light. On one end the wall was lined with cupboards and shelves stuffed with various medical equipment and dozens of tiny jars and vials. In the middle of the room, there was a metal examination table, covered with a white sheet.

“Put him on there,” the blond man said. Cullen carefully lay the boy onto the table. Under the cold light he looked even younger.

“Is he going to be alright?” he asked as he stepped back to let the man start his work.

“Anders is a spirit healer but he's also a real trained doctor. Went to college and everything,” Velanna said, her tone unusually soft. “I've seen him bring back people from worse than this.”

Anders gave her a tiny smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Unfortunately the Chantry wasn't so happy with my services. They revoked my license two years ago,” he explained.

The Chantry, again. Why did it always circle back to them?

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he said and meant it.

Anders nodded. “Yeah, me too.” He began peeling back the bandage they had put over Loranil's wound. “Listen, I'd love to chat and tell you all about the evil ways of the medical industrial complex, but I'm afraid I have to ask you two to leave. Your car is probably already drawing attention and I can't have too many people in here at once if I want this place to stay a secret.”

Cullen looked to Elaria and she gave him a quick nod.

“Thank you for everything,” she said before stepping next to the table one last time. With shaking fingers, she brushed a lock of hair from Loranil's forehead. “Please call me afterwards, Velanna.”

Velanna nodded and at last, Elaria tore her eyes away from the boy's pale face and turned around. She walked out of the room with strangely stiff steps and tense shoulders as if she was trying to hold back tears. Cullen made haste to follow her but Velanna's hand on his arms stopped him.

“Thank you for this,” she said, still a little gingerly. “I don't know who you are or where Elaria dragged you up from, but we couldn't have done this without you tonight.”

Cullen stared at her, swallowing against the lump in his throat. Before he could answer, Velanna had shut down again, willing her face to grow cold and hard – the familiar suspicion back in her eyes. So he settled for a curt nod and stepped out into the hallway.

After the bright light of the clinic, it took him a moment to get used to the darkness of the hallway. He looked around for Elaria. She stood close to the front door but was leaning against the grimy wall, slightly doubled over.

“Are you alright?” He quickened his steps and hurried to her side. Raising one hand, she warded off his help but her face was scrunched up in pain. Tears gleamed in the corners of her eyes.

“I'm fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “The painkillers are wearing off.”

It took him a moment to understand. Her tense shoulders. Her strangely stiff walk. Of course. In the whole chaos of the night, he had completely forgotten about her feet.

“How bad is it?” he asked as he curled an arms around her waist to prop her up. To his surprise, she didn't try to push him away this time but accepted his help with a tired grateful smile.

“I just need to get to the car and out of these blighted shoes.”

He stopped to think for a moment. She had pressed her body against his side, holding on tightly to his arm and shoulder. He could feel her shivering – although he could not tell whether the cause for that was the pain or the exhaustion. Carefully, she took another step, only to wince in pain again.

_Oh, fuck it._

With a swift decisive move, he leaned down and picked her up in his arms. She let out a small yelp of surprise and clung to the front of his sweater.

“What are you doing?!”

He chuckled and adjusted her weight with a shrug of his shoulders. She was heavier than she looked but still light enough to carry with ease.

“What does it look like?”

“You know, I'm not Loranil and I'm not unconscious,” she said but there was a slightly amused edge to her chiding. “I don't need anyone to carry me.”

He looked down into her face, her flushed cheeks. Memories of her from earlier shot through his mind. Her bare legs underneath his fingertips. The slight hitch in her breathing. There had been something between them in her apartment. He knew she had felt it too. Their closeness now betrayed her once again as her eyes flicked to his lips and back to his eyes, looking at him through the dark fan of her lashes. She was thinking about it.

“I know you don't need me to. But will you allow me to do this for you anyway?”

She stared at him with wide eyes, the pink in her cheeks intensifying. Then she nodded and pressed her face into the soft fabric of his sweater.

“Thank you,” she murmured. The words came easier to her when she was not looking a him, he knew. He couldn't help the grin that spread on his face as he carried her down the stairs and out onto the street.

“Come one. Let's get you home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update has taken so long. I hope it was worth the wait. 
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen and Elaria text a lot and Fen'Harel makes an appearance.

**Sunday**

 

No dreams this time. Just deep, silent sleep. Soothing darkness creeping into every corner of her subconsciousness and smothering the images of blood and fear and even his face, so close to her but just out of reach. Again and again and again...

Elaria did not wake with a start but slowly, like drifting to the surface from the depth of sleep itself. As she rolled over to hide her face in the pillows and shield her eyes from the morning light, the memories followed bit by bit. Loranil, the mercenaries, the wild car ride, the Clinic. And over all, strangely bright and clear in her mind, Cullen. She turned on her back, staring at the ceiling. His smile. His earnestness. The way he had trembled when she had held his hand in the car. Creators, he had _carried_ her. Humiliation made her stomach churn and she groaned as she covered her face with her hands.

Nobody had ever carried her that way. She could still feel his warmth, the steadiness of his hands. Her own beating heart, small and fast and almost painful. Stolen glances up at his face. The tiny smile that had never left his lips.

Of course, it had all gone to shit when they reached the apartment and Adaar almost scared him half to death. She did not hold it against him that he had dropped her. Anyone who said they were not at least a little bit intimidated by Adaar at first was probably lying. Fortunately her big loaf of a roommate was as fast as he was intimidating and had caught her just in time.

A tentative knock on her bedroom door brought her back into the present. Dorian peaked through the gap, his face lacking its usual composure. When he saw that she was awake, he pushed the door fully open with a nudge from his hip and came in, carrying two big mugs in his hands.

“A peace offering?” Elaria sat up and pulled her legs up to make room for him on the bed. Dorian sat down and handed her one of the mugs. The smell of coffee wafted up towards her and she sighed contently.

“I didn't think I needed one,” Dorian said, watching her take a first sip.

“You don't. But I could get used to you bringing me my coffee in the morning.” She tried a careful smile and was glad to see it returned. She could still feel the uneasiness between them, like a new bruise still tender to the touch.

The had fought. A shouting match contended while Adaar had examined her painfully throbbing feet and Cullen had sat at the kitchen table, uncomfortable as a wet cat. Anger was always Dorian's first reaction when he was worried – a charming character trait they both shared. And he had been right to be angry. She had left without leaving a note, again. And she had not answered her phone all night – twelve missed calls in total. And she had raided their Magi box for herbs and drugs.

Adaar's anger had been calmer, silent. And it had felt a whole lot more like disappointment, which was even worse.

“I wanted to apologize again,” she said after a moment of silence, shifting anxiously on her bed. “I didn't mean to make you worry last night.”

Dorian shook his head, unusually calm. She could still see the dark circles underneath his eyes – a tell-tale sign of his restless night.

“As much as I would have appreciated a little bit more communication – you know, a call or a text or a smoke signal – I shouldn't have assumed that you had no reason to leave as abruptly as you did.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighed. “Although I must admit the fact that Loranil was shot does nothing to reassure me of your safety out there.”

Taking a sip of coffee, Elaria watched her friend's face over the rim of her mug. Dorian had never made a secret of his opinion of her involvement in Revas. He knew why she did it – the plight of the elves was nothing new to him either. But he worried. Covering it behind snark and annoyance was not enough to hide it from her.

“I'll be fine,” she said and lightly touched his arm. “And I promise to be more careful. And to check in with you next time.”

The smile he gave her was a tired shadow of his usual grin but she knew the waves were calmed, for now.

“I'd still prefer it if you took Adaar with you again. He does have that mighty intimidating death glare. And the horns. It's all very impressing if you don't know that he's really just a big mush.”

She laughed.

“I'm sure Cullen can confirm that. He must have thought Adaar was about to rip his head off.” Before Elaria had been able to explain the situation, Adaar had been more than protective, keeping his massive body between her and Cullen at all times while examining her feet. Even after she had told them about Loranil's injuries and about how Cullen had basically saved them from a group of Qunari mercenaries, Adaar's suspicions had refused to subside.

“Speaking of which,” Dorian said and an ominous grin spread across his face. “I must say, that cop friend of yours sure is strapping.”

Elaria almost choked on her coffee. “Oh no, please don't say that.” She knew Dorian would bring it up sooner or later. “His name is Cullen and he's not cop.”

Dorian shrugged, failing to hide his grin behind another sip of coffee. “Still extraordinarily handsome. A bit too much of that kicked puppy look for my taste but certainly not without charm. Nice hands as well.” He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed when she rolled her eyes at him.

“Well, Adaar didn't seem to like him very much,” she said, trying to change the topic.

Dorian shrugged. “The big oaf doesn't like anyone who brings you back even slightly injured. Even if they carry you through the door like a blushing bride on the way to her honeymoon.” He was grinning again and she nudged him with her elbow, careful not to spill any coffee on her duvet.

“I was not blushing.”

“Oh, you most certainly were.”

They sipped their coffee in silence for a while, content with the recovered ease between them. When Elaria tugged her icy toes under Dorian's thigh to warm them up, he even acted only a little bit annoyed.

“Are you sure about this though?” he asked after another minute of silence. “Trusting him so much, even with Revas? You hardly know him.”

She sighed. The thought had crossed her mind more than once. “I don't know. It feels right, somehow. And he could have sabotaged or had me arrested at any point last night. But he helped. Even when he didn't have to.”

“I can't imagine your Fen'Harel being too happy about that...”

“You're not even supposed to know about him,” she said and flexed her toes a bit to poke him. “Knowing that I've told you about him would be enough to make him angry.”

Dorian scoffed. “Oh please, as if you could keep any secrets from me.”

She smiled and emptied her mug with one last gulp. “But you're right. He would be furious. That's why I don't plan on telling him.”

“Rebellious.” Dorian took her mug from her and got up. “I like it.”

 

After he had left, Elaria let herself fall back into her pillows. For a moment she was just content with the slated morning light falling through her blinds and her belly full of coffee and the blissful absence of pain in her feet. Adaar had made an excellent job of healing and bandaging them last night, even though it had made her feel even more guilty. After a shift of healing at the hospital he was usually too drained to perform even the most simple spell.

Her phone buzzed quietly from its place on her nightstand and she rolled over with a groan to reach it. As promised, Velanna had called her just after Adaar had carried Elaria to bed to let her know that Loranil was out of danger and that they would talk in the morning. But when Elaria swiped her thumb over the screen, the name displayed above the text was a new one.

Cullen.

For a second, she was confused but then she remembered that he had insisted on typing his number into her phone himself before leaving the night before.

“So I won't have to come by unannounced next time,” he had said as he was handing it back. The promise of 'next time' hanging heavy in the air between them. Even now, she could feel her heart speeding up as she opened the message. _Silly_ , she told herself.

 

– _Cullen 8:01_

_Good morning. Any news from the patient?_

 

It was more impersonal than she had thought it would be and she tried very hard not to be disappointed. What had she expected, honestly? She had only known him for two days. Every interaction they had had could mean everything or nothing, if she really thought about it. Embarrassment burned in her stomach like a smoldering piece of coal. She typed her reply quickly, ready to toss her phone aside and crawl back under the covers to hide from all of this.

 

– _x 8:05_

_Loranil's condition is stable. Velanna called last night. Haven't heard from them since._

 

She bit her bottom lip, considering sending a second text to thank him for his help once more. Even if she had misread his mere friendliness as genuine interest, she didn't want to seem ungrateful. Without him, Loranil could have died. There was no reason to deny it. But before she could bring herself to formulate an adequate thank you, the phone in her hands buzzed again.

 

– _Cullen 8:07_

_That's good to hear. I wasn't sure if I could use names in these texts. I don't want to get you in trouble._

 

Her breath hitched, a small smile forming on her lips.

 

– _x 8:08_

_I'm pretty sure the Chantry is not monitoring my phone. Small fish, remember? :D_

 

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and nibbled on the nail of thumb while she waited for his reply.

 

– _Cullen 8:10_

_Now I feel silly. I'm new to this rebellious vigilante thing, if you haven't noticed._

 

She covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing out loud.

 

– _x 8:10_

_Could have fooled me, rutherford. You make an impressive getaway driver._

 

When he didn't answer right away, she put her phone away and got up on her feet very carefully. Her soles were still a bit tender but the throbbing pain she had felt last night was completely gone. Adaar was a miracle worker. She took some tentative steps towards her closet and pulled out some pants and a clean shirt.

She had one leg in when she heard her phone buzz again and nearly fell over as she tried to hop to her bed on one foot. She almost did not care how ridiculous she was behaving. Almost.

 

* * *

 

**Monday**

 

– _Cullen 17:39_

_How are your feet by the way? Feeling any better?_

 

– _x 17:42_

_Much better. My roommate healed them. :)_

 

– _Cullen 17:42_

_The talking one or the scary one?_

 

Elaria snorted into the coffee. Adaar looked up from the dough he was kneading on the kitchen counter next to her and cocked an eyebrow.

“What's so funny?” he asked, his eyes flicking to phone in her hand.

She shook her hand, desperately trying to hide her grin. “Nothing.”

 

– _x 17:43_

_His name is adaar and he's a nurse and not scary at all. In fact he's baking cookies right now. ;)_

 

She was almost tempted to snap a picture of Adaar in his apron and to send it to Cullen but she didn't think Adaar would appreciate that very much. He was still eyeing her suspiciously, tossing the dough onto the counter with much more force than necessary.

 

– _Cullen 17:44_

_That... I don't know what to say to that..._

 

– _x 17:44_

_He's a complex individual with many passions and talents._

 

– _Cullen 17:44_

_And very big horns._

 

– _x 17:45_

_That as well, yes. :D_

 

– _Cullen 17:46_

_But I'm glad you're feeling better. I mean I didn't mind carrying you around for a bit..._

 

“Okay, that's enough!” Adaar slapped the ball of dough with his palm and frowned at her. “Now you're blushing! What is going on?”

Elaria's head snapped up and she was very aware of the guilty expression on her face.

“And don't tell me it's nothing,” Adaar said. “You've been staring at your phone all day and smiling like an idiot. As if you're...” He stopped as realization washed over his face. “Oh no. It's the cop, isn't it?”

If she wasn't blushing before, she certainly was now. “What? No! I mean, yes. But it's not like that!”

Adaar wiped bits and traces of dough and flour from his hands. “Really? That's what you're going with?”

“He's not a cop.” She felt like a broken record but it was the only thing that came to her mind.

“That still doesn't mean you should trust him this blindly, Ela.”

She sighed and pushed herself off the counter. Dull pain shot through her feet as she landed on the floor. Perhaps not quite as healed as she would have liked.

“Spare me the lecture. Dorian already talked to me about it.”

Adaar's sigh sounded more sad than annoyed and it made her hesitate.

“It's not a lecture,” he said, his eyes gentle all of a sudden. “I'm not your father. I'm your friend. And unlike Dorian I know what it's like out there. What's at stake.”

“The cause will always come first”, she said, the bitter words ringing hollow. “I know that.”

Adaar shook his head and she could not shake the feeling that she had missed the crucial point. But he turned back to his dough. Irritation prickled at the back of her neck. Somehow Adaar's disapproval hit her harder than Dorian's. Perhaps because he _did_ know what was at stake. He was a member of Revas in everything but name, having had to stitch up countless of her people in the past. He had fought with them, bled with them. Always the silent stoic protector by her side. Endlessly patient, endlessly kind.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she should run and hide while she still could. Delete Cullen's number, never contact him again.

But when she looked down on her phone, his last message still up on the screen, she could feel the tiny spark of giddiness inside her heart. She turned her back to Adaar as she began typing her reply.

 

* * *

  

**Wednesday**

 

Elaria hated Solas' office. It wasn't so much the overwhelming feeling of tall, unstable-looking bookshelves looming over her or the subtle smell of dust and sweat that seemed to be etched into every single object in the room. It was Solas himself. Or, to be more precise, the almost palpable sense of disappointment that seemed to accompany every meeting with. Of all her university professors, he was the one whose opinion she valued the most – while simultaneously having to fight the urge to stab him with a sharp pencil every time they were in the same room together.

“It's the same problem as always,” he said as he slid her paper over the desk towards her. Red lines and scribbled notes dissected the texts almost everywhere and Elaria could feel her heart sink. “Your Dalish perspective is too obvious, even though it does not apply to this topic at all.”

She took the stapled pages and flipped through them without really seeing them. Her gaze had become unfocused in the face of so much red.

“You did not fail but it was close this time,” Solas continued. “I expect you to be able to leave your personal bias behind when writing academically. This program does not focus on Dalish studies.”

“I did not even use the word Dalish once in this paper,” she said, mortified to hear how small and shaky her voice sounded.

“I could still tell.”

 _Yes, because you know I'm Dalish, you jackass._ But she did not say it out loud, biting her tongue hard enough to almost draw blood. She could tell that he had already moved on from the topic as he got up from his chair and started pulling seemingly random books from the shelves.

This was always the part she loathed the most. Even more than him berating her for being Dalish or destroying her academic self-confidence with a few red lines. This was the shift from Solas the Professor to Fen'Harel, secret founder and de facto leader of Revas. A shift that happened so quickly and smoothly that she hardly ever had time to swallow her anger about her academic shortcomings before he started talking about things that were actually important. It made her feel petty, somehow.

“There have been seven arrests in the last week alone,” he said, pulling a thick leather-clad book from the shelf. His long fingers pulled a small piece of paper from in between the pages and handed it to her. “These are their names. I need you to go to their houses and check if any of them have been released early.”

“And what am I supposed to do if they were?”

Solas looked at her over the edge of the book, his brow slightly furrowed. “Then you report back to me and I'll deal with it.”

She wanted to ask, she really did. But something stopped her and she closed her mouth. Because she knew if she asked he would give her an answer. And she was not sure she was ready to hear it. So instead, she kept her mouth shut and ignored the questions burning on her tongue.

If he knew about her doubts, he did not show it. “That is all for today.”

It was a dismissal and she almost got up and left when she remembered something. It was overstepping the boundaries, she knew that, but she needed to know.

“Do you know how Loranil is doing?” she asked, nervously kneading her hands in her lap. “I have not heard from Velanna since Saturday night.”

Solas idly flipped through the pages of the book as if she wasn't even there. But just when she thought about leaving, he looked up.

“The boy is doing fine,” he said, his expression unreadable as always. “I have heard about what happened.” He paused. “About the stranger you brought to the warehouse.”

Of course he had. She tried to keep her face even. To not look guilty.

“Is that why Velanna is not answering my calls?”

Solas scoffed. “I'm not Velanna's Keeper. What she chooses to do or not to do is entirely her own decision.”

Irritation flared up inside her again and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “The man that helped us on Saturday is a friend.” She almost didn't stumble over the word. “We needed a car to move Loranil and he had one. That's all it was.”

“I must say, I was disappointed,” Solas said and started piling up the books on his desk with slow, careful movements. Elaria bit down on her tongue, trying to keep the angry words from flowing out of her mouth. She was certain he knew exactly that his opinion of her meant a lot to her. “I didn't expect you to be so careless.”

“It wasn't carelessness,” she spurted out. “It was a decision.” She almost put her hand over her mouth but stopped herself just in time. The words were out now. No need to diminish them by acting embarrassed.

Solas looked up, cocking one eyebrow. “Is that so?” She almost believed she saw the beginning of an amused smile on his lips before he turned away again. “In that case, let us hope that it was the right one. For all our sake.”

She left his office, shaking with suppressed anger. It took everything she had not to slam the door on her way out. She stuffed the paper into her bag, not caring that it got crumpled in the process, and walked through the hallway at such a brisk pace that other students jumped out of her way to let her pass. Her steps echoed loudly from the high stone walls and arches. It was only when she pushed open the large doors leading into the courtyard that she found she could breathe again. Out in the sun, without the stale smell of centuries-old stone and books, the anger slowly left her body, leaving her feeling exhausted.

With a sigh she slumped down on the steps in front of the university's main building and covered her face with her hands. She knew she had no right to be this angry with Solas, even if he riled her up with every word he said. He was the one who took on the greatest risk. Taking on the mantle of Fen'Harel, building up Revas from nothing. All the while, sitting in the belly of the beast. The university was a Chantry institution, like almost everything nowadays. They had been trying to scrap the Elven program for years. Solas had been fighting them tooth and nail but if they were ever able to prove that he had any association with Revas, they wouldn't just arrest him and possibly all of the students he was mentoring. They would cut the program – erasing another part of elven history forever.

She could not blame him for being careful, even if he did it in that infuriatingly condescending tone of his. And even if he picked every single one of her papers to pieces. She sighed. Without even realizing it, she had pulled out her phone and had already begun typing.

 

– _x 11:02_

_How well does a security gig like yours pay? And are you required to write stupid papers?_

 

His answer came almost immediately.

 

– _Cullen 11:03_

_Planning a career change? I'm afraid you might be a little bit too short for the job. Not intimidating enough..._

 

– _x 11:03_

_Hey! I can be VERY intimidating!_

 

– _Cullen 11:04_

_I'm sure that's true. And we could work together. So that's a plus._

 

She smiled as she read, her fingers nervously tapping at the side of her phone. His texts were usually like this. Forward, almost always on the verge of outright flirting.

 

– _x 11:06_

_Arguing with drunks? Checking people's ID? Standing around with you looking grumpy all night? Sign me up._

 

– _Cullen 11:07_

_And you already know all of the Pit's emergency exits! Even the unofficial ones!_

 

– _x 11:07_

_What can I say? I'm resourceful that way._

 

Taking a deep breath, she looked up. It was a curious thing, how just a few texts from him were enough to loosen the tight knot in her stomach. To even forget the list of names in the back pocket of her jeans, if only just for a little while.

 

* * *

  

**Friday**

 

– _x 23:21_

_Since you told me I'm too short to be a security guard, I have gone back to studying. I hope you're happy. I'm dying of boredom here._

 

She put her phone back on the pile of books on her desk and leaned back in her chair. Lifting her hands over her head she stretched until she felt the hard muscles in her back and shoulders loosen a little bit. She had been sitting at this desk for hours, trying to commit dates and facts to memory. But her mind kept wandering until she could not keep herself from texting him.

It had turned into some sort of routine, she realized as she stared at the dark screen of her phone, waiting for him to reply. A comfortable back-and-forth with none of the initial awkwardness. She shared tiny snippets of her life with him, one text at a time, just like she got little insights into his. It felt normal somehow. But she had to admit, it was also a distraction.

Impatiently, she grabbed the phone again. She had not heard from him all night and it irritated her how much the absence of the familiar buzzing sound annoyed her.

She almost let out a little yelp when the phone in her hand suddenly began to buzz loudly. Cullen's name appeared on the display. He was calling her! For a second she was too shocked to react. Then she swiped across the display with clammy fingers to accept the call.

“Hello?” she asked hesitantly, as if she had not recognized his name and number instantly.

“Elaria? Can you hear me? I don't know if the reception is any good.” She could hear him just fine. Even through the phone his voice was deep and melodic.

“Uh, yes,” she said and sat up straight in her chair. “What's going on?”

“Am I keeping you from anything? I'm sorry,” he said quickly, suddenly sounding very unsure of himself. “It's just... I'm on my break and I thought...”

“No, no!”, she interrupted. “It's fine. I was just surprised. You've never called me.”

She could hear him chuckling on the other end of the line. “I just didn't feel like sitting here and typing. And you said you were at home studying, so...”

She closed the book in front of her and pushed it to the corner of the desk. “Not anymore,” she said with a little smile. “All done with Dalish history for today. I was actually about to go to bed.”

“Oh,” he said and she could have kicked herself. “I didn't mean to keep you.”

Creators, how could he sound so shy and bashful now? He had had no problem flirting with her over text and now he sounded like he was about to crawl into some deep dark hole just to get away from the embarrassment.

“I'm sure I'll survive a few more minutes without sleep, Cullen,” she said and tried to sound as reassuring as possible. “What did you want to talk about?”

For a few seconds, he didn't say anything. If it hadn't been for the muted sound of the club music in the background she would have thought the connection had been lost. Just as she was about to say something, he cleared his throat.

“It's been one week,” he said softly. She knew immediately what he was talking about and could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered and her fingers somehow found their way back to her lips, as if she could still feel him there. “I know.”

Another pause. “Do you think about it sometimes?” His voice was so low now and without seeing his face, it was even more difficult for her to read him. What was she supposed to say? The truth? That she kept being overwhelmed by flashes of memory? That she could not put it out of her mind even if she wanted to? But before she could come up with an answer, he cleared his throat again.

“I do. Think about it, I mean.” If he had sounded shy before, none of that was left in his voice now. “I think about it all the time actually.”

Elaria realized she was holding her breath. This was not where she had expected this conversation to go. But she could not deny that her heart was beating as fast as a bird's at the thought of it. Him thinking about her.

“You're being bold again, Mr. Rutherford,” she said but it did not come out half as confident as she had hoped and just a little bit breathless.

He chuckled again. “What can I say? You make me want to be bold.”

She laughed at the corniness of the line, her nervousness slowly dispelling. This she could deal with. This felt like safer ground. But Cullen was not about to let her off the hook so easily.

“You're avoiding my question, Miss Lavellan,” he chided gently.

“Is this an interrogation, Officer?” One last attempt at diversion.

“Elaria...”

She sighed and leaned back into her chair. With one forearm draped across her eyes, she finally caved. “Yes, okay?” she hissed. “I think about it too.”

It was almost as if she could hear his grin through the phone. His wide, ridiculously earnest grin. She could not help but smile a bit herself. She was probably properly blushing by now.

“Would it be weird if I said that I want to see you again?” he asked. “Without the running and the life-threatening injuries and the felonies for once?”

“What? Like a real date? That _would_ be weird.” She laughed. “But yes, I kind of want that too.” It was easier now that the secret was out. That they were on the same page, somehow. Both not quite sure what they were doing but knowing that they didn't want to stop.

“So, tomorrow then? We could get dinner or something like that.”

The thought made her laugh again. Somehow she found it difficult to imagine herself eating dinner with him in a restaurant. If she really thought about it, all typical date scenarios seemed strangely unfitting.

“As much as I would like to watch you trying to pronounce the name of some fancy Orlesian dish, I can't do tomorrow. We have another protest scheduled.”

“Even after what happened last time?” The worry in his voice twisted her gut in the most pleasant way.

“Don't worry. It's all been properly announced and authorized this time. It's mostly students anyway,” she explained. “They've been trying to shut down our program for years and from time to time we need to remind them that we're still very much invested in its continued existence.”

“As long as you don't kiss any more strangers on the street...”

“Oh, I don't know. I hear you meet the most interesting people that way.”

She could hear him chuckling. “Alright then. How about Sunday? We could just grab a coffee if you're more comfortable with that?”

She thought about it. It did seem a lot more appropriate than some restaurant.

“I'd love to,” she heard herself say and was almost a little bit surprised that she meant it. The thought of it seemed almost ludicrously normal to her. Coffee, sunshine, spending the afternoon with him. Talking. The way how she could see the image so clearly in her mind was nearly frightening.

“Sunday it is then,” he said, his voice low and soft.

“Sunday,” she repeated, her fingers finding their way to her lips once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, you can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen is on a quest of his own.

He was a few minutes late to the meeting and slipped through the backdoor as quietly as possible. Passing the table with coffee and those horrendous fatty doughnuts they always had the weekend meetings, he made his way to one of the free chairs in the last row to sit down. Lysette was already standing in front of the group, giving her usual little introductory speech. When she spotted him, she gave him a short nod of acknowledgment before continuing.

Cullen took a seat and shrugged off his jacket. He always liked the meetings that were led by Lysette. She was Fereldan, like him, and unlike many others she usually refrained from using heavy-handed Chantry rhetoric when addressing the group. He suspected that this was also the reason for the group's unusual diversity. As he let his gaze wander around the room, he saw dwarves and elves as well as humans. In the second row he thought he recognized Samson, the only man who was here for the same reasons as he was.

His mind wandered, his thoughts never far from the phone in his pocket and the girl whose texts came rolling in with that light buzzing sound he had come to love so much over the last couple of days. He would see her again. The memory of her voice alone was a bright light in the dreary grey of his life. It was ridiculous, even silly. But what point was there in denying the things he felt? And more so, the things he hoped for? Only two things mattered now. She thought of him and he would see her again. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

When Lysette stepped away from the wooden podium and let a fidgety dark-haired dwarf take her place, Cullen realized he had not been listening at all. Trying not to look too guilty, he sat up straight as the dwarf began sharing the troubles he had encountered during the past week. Cullen listened. It wasn't his story. Apart from Samson, none of these people had even a similar story to his. In the beginning, he had thought this would be a problem. That he would not able to relate. But he had soon found that when it came to the everyday struggle, most addictions were not that different after all.

He was not going to share today. He was just here to listen. To remind himself. He had come to the meetings almost every day since the incident at the warehouse. The memory of the smell alone was enough to make him sweat. It had not been the first time he had been this close to lyrium since getting clean two years ago but it had caught him off guard. His strong reaction, even to the weak commercial stuff, had scared him.

The dwarf finished his story. A harrowing tale of finding solace from his daughter's death in the comforting embrace of deathroot hallucinations. Cullen was glad he had made an effort to listen. As the dwarf returned to his seat, the group murmured their sympathies.

 

Afterwards, he stuck around for a few more minutes, slowly pacing in front of the table with the refreshments. When he caught Lysette's eye, she came over to him, a stack of papers in her arms and a smile on her lips.

“Cullen!” She poured coffee into a cup and handed it to him. He took it without arguing. That was usually easier with her. “You've been here a lot this week. How are you feeling?” She kept watching him from the corner of her eye as she poured herself another cup.

“I'm good,” he said because it was what he always said. “Just needed some extra support this week.”

She took a sip but kept her gaze on him. “You could share next time if you want.”

“No, thank you. I think...” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I think I just need to listen for a while.” Perhaps sharing would have been helpful. But he did not even know where to start. He always had to be careful not to reveal too much during the meetings but now that the identity of several Revas members had been added to his long list of secrets, he had to be even more careful.

Lysette nodded. He could see that she had wished for a different answer but she would not push it. Although he assumed she was even younger than he was, she was bold and straight-forward. But she recognized other people's boundaries and took care not to overstep them.

“Do you mind?” a voice behind him snarled. He stepped aside to let Samson access the coffee. He tried not to stare. Samson looked dreadful. His skin was waxen and furrowed, his dark hair thin and oily. He was still clean, Cullen would have smelled the lyrium on him otherwise, but he clearly was not doing well.

Lysette excused herself when someone called her from the other side of the room and left him alone with Samson. He had to keep himself from groaning. As much as he appreciated having someone in the group who understood his particular brand of addiction, he could never bring himself to like the man.

“How are you holding up, Samson?” he asked anyway because he knew the roles could easily have been reversed.

Samson scoffed and grabbed for a doughnut without deigning to look at him. “About as well as I look. What do you think?”

Cullen was about to give up and leave, when Samson halted in his movement and threw a quick look over his shoulder, as if he expected someone to eavesdrop. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, almost conspiratorial.

“Thought you should know. They are in town again. Recruiting. Or maybe for some other reason.”

Cullen leaned in closer, not sure he had heard him correctly. “Who?”

“You know exactly who the fuck I'm talking about, boy.”

Cold crept up Cullen's spine and he could feel his heart beating faster. It couldn't be. The lyrium or perhaps the withdrawal must have made Samson paranoid. Perhaps even delusional.

“Are you sure?” he heard himself asking.

Samson looked at him, his bloodshot eyes surprisingly bright. “You bet I am. They're back and if I were you I'd be careful. If they catch you wagging that pretty little tongue of yours they'll come and cut it out.” His grin was little more than a baring of yellowing teeth and Cullen stumbled back.

Cold terror had snaked its way around his chest, coiled so tightly he could hardly breathe. With shaking hands he put down his coffee mug. He could feel all eyes on him as he hurried out of the room but he did not care. He just needed to get out. Through the hallway, down the stairs and through the building's large front door. Cold air hit him when he burst out onto the street and he grabbed his chest where the terror had buried his icy claws. With one hand on the side of his car he steadied himself, desperately trying to calm his breathing. He started counting his breaths. One to ten. Then once more from the top. And one last time.

By the time he finished, his heart beat at a normal rate and his chest did not feel like it was about to cave in anymore. Wiping cold sweat from his forehead, he opened the car door and let himself fall into the seat. His face in the the rearview mirror was pale and haunted.

He felt silly. Shame crept in where the panic had left him as he grabbed for a bottle of water in the foot well of the passenger seat. His mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow. Of course Samson was paranoid. He had always known that. Everybody knew Samson talked all kinds of nonsense if nobody stopped him.

“Get a grip, Rutherford,” he told his reflection and took another sip of water. This was the second time this week something had caught him off guard. First the lyrium and now this. After all this time, he should be more stable than this. With a grunt, he hit the steering wheel with the flat of his palm. It stung but the pain cleared his mind. He leaned back against the headrest and took a deep breath.

The familiar buzzing of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts eventually. He fished it out of his pocket. His smile came easy, chasing away the leftover feeling of tightness in his chest.

 

_–Elaria 13:14_

_Why has no one told me it would be so cold today? I'm going to freeze at the protest in these shorts!_

 

There was an attachment. A picture of her bare legs and sneakers, taken from above. From this angle he couldn't even see her shorts. He chuckled quietly as he typed his answer.

 

_–x 13:15_

_Admit it. You just wanted to show off your legs._

 

_–Elaria 13:15_

_Oh the things you accuse me of... ;)_

 

From the corner of his eye he saw other people from the meeting leaving the building. He had no desire for their curious looks or questions, so he put the phone away and started his car.

As he drove down the street, putting distance between him and Samson, the whole thing seemed more and more unreal to him. Like one of those bad dreams he got from time to time. His breathing and heart beat were normal again and the tight feeling in his chest completely gone.

He took a deep breath. He still had things to do. People to see. He almost smiled at that.

Ever since taking Elaria home from their adventure at the warehouse and the Clinic, he had conducted his own investigation. It had almost felt like working a case again. Gathering evidence, testing theories. Staying busy.

He was not even sure why he was doing it. Perhaps for Elaria. Perhaps even for her friends at Revas. Or maybe he was just doing it for himself. He felt good, useful. Even if the things he had found out until now were small and seemingly unimportant. But he had higher hopes for the last two stops on his list. Two conversations he had been putting off all week, almost afraid of the answers they might yield.

 _No more putting it off_ , he thought as he took a left turn and made his way into Lowtown, almost managing to ignore the feeling of excitement in his chest.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Cullen entered the bar, the familiar scent hit him with all its force, carrying a hundred memories in its wake. Sweat and wood and alcohol and just a hint of greasy food. He had not been to The Chargers in months but the bar had not changed one bit.

When his eyes got used to the dim light, he saw that the bar was empty. He had counted on it. It was too early for the usual patrons. Around this time, the owner and his associates had the rooms for themselves – to conduct business that had less to do with serving drinks.

Cullen moved through the empty chairs and tables to the back of the room. There, seated at his usual table, he found The Iron Bull, owner of The Chargers, a grilled chicken on a plate in front of him and a grin on his face. His more unofficial work included everything from security work to punching people who needed to be punched. For the right price, Bull and his men did what needed to be done and didn't ask questions. And, for a while, Cullen had worked the odd jobs with them.

Bull was a big, impressive Qunari with prominent horns and an eye patch over one eye but Cullen had come to know him as intelligent and kind. Even through the haze of the lyrium, his memories of his time with him were mostly positive. None of the work had been legal, strictly speaking, and nowadays he would not dream of doing anything like that again, but back then, right after losing his job with the police, it had been all he had. When Bull had found out about the lyrium, he had let him go, but not before making sure he got the help he needed. For that alone he would always have Cullen's respect and gratitude.

“Cullen!” the Qunari called out, waving him closer with one of big hands. A wide genuine smile stretched over his scarred face and Cullen couldn't help but smile in return.

“It's good to see you, Bull,” he said and slumped down on a chair on the other side of the table. Bull pushed his chicken to the side to give him his full attention.

“You look good, Cullen,” he grumbled approvingly as he looked him up and down. “Healthy.”

Cullen smiled, a feeling of pride quietly rumbling in his chest. Bull had that effect on people. “I feel good,” he said. “Two years clean now. And I'm working.”

“Good on ya. That's fantastic.” He clapped his big hands together and watched him from across the table, his one good eye gleaming. “So I take it you're not here to ask me for work then?”

Cullen shook his head. “No, I'm actually looking for information.” His eyes flicked to the man standing behind Bull. A tall, good-looking guy with tan skin and brown hair. _Krem_ , Cullen remembered.

“You know I don't have secrets from my men,” Bull said. “But if you want to discuss this in private...”

“Don't worry, Chief,” Krem said and patted the big man's shoulder. “I'll go to the kitchen and see if I can find some chicken for myself. One that you haven't felt up with those sausage fingers of yours.”

Bull's low chuckle followed him until he vanished through a door in the back. When he turned back to Cullen, his face was more serious.

“So, information, he? Since you're coming to me and not your cop friends, I take it the issue is not strictly on the legal side?”

Cullen nodded. “You could say that. I was hoping you could confirm some suspicions of mine. Perhaps give me a few names.”

Bull leaned forward in his seat, raising his eyebrows. “I'll do my best. What is this about?”

“I had a run-in with a few Qunari mercenaries the other night,” Cullen said, choosing his words carefully. There was a slight change in Bull's posture – so small he could have missed it if he had not been waiting for it. It was the familiar uneasy stiffening of the shoulders that suspects often did when the interrogator brought up a touchy subject. Cullen was not surprised by it now. He had known Bull long enough to know that talking about mercenaries would catch his attention.

“Technically those would have been Tal-Vashoth,” Bull said through set teeth. “But who cares about that anymore...” Cullen remained quiet, waiting for Bull to snap out of his nostalgia. “Yes, I have heard about them.”

“You have?” Again, Cullen was not surprised. Hardly anything happened in the shadows of Lowtown without Bull noticing it.

“They have been roughing up the elves around Lowtown and the industrial park,” Bull said. “Pretty nasty stuff. These guys are professionals. Very discreet. I'm afraid I can't help you with names, if that's what you were hoping for.”

“I'm more interested in whoever hired them.”

Bull looked at him. His gaze was intense and after a few silent seconds Cullen started to feel uncomfortable. He was sizing him up, he realized. But for what he could not tell.

“So that's why you are here,” Bull said after a few more seconds, slowly leaning back in his chair. The wood groaned dangerously under his weight. “I have to say, I'm surprised.”

“So you know who hired them.”

Bull nodded. “I do. Not sure you're ready to hear it though.”

“It doesn't matter. I need to know regardless.” He could feel the familiar pressure in his chest. If he was honest with himself, he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it.

With a small shrug, Bull relented. “Suit yourself. As far as I know, the order went through many different channels. Misdirection, probably. I'm sure the money is untraceable by now. But if I had to guess, I'd say it's your Chantry pulling the strings.”

Cullen let out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair as he leaned back. Bull watched him, searching his face for his reaction.

“So this doesn't surprise you,” he said, an amused smile curving his lips.

Cullen shook his head. “It's not the first time I've heard this. You've just confirmed my suspicions.”

Bull made a contemplative sound, his one good eye still trained on Cullen. “But I wonder where your interest lies in this. With the elves or with the Chantry?”

Cullen let out a dry laugh. “A little with both, I guess.”

Bull chuckled, a low and almost dangerous sound, as Cullen got up and put on his jacket. “I never imagined you would be the one to take up the elven cause.” Curiosity blinked in his eye and Cullen knew he was burning with questions. Or perhaps he had already answered them himself. Sometimes it seemed as if Bull could read him like an open book with just one glance.

“Then that makes two of us,” he said, earning another chuckle. “Thank you for your help. I suppose it goes without saying that I'd prefer it if this stays among us.”

Bull simply nodded. “No problem.”

Cullen was already half-way to the door, when the sound of Bull's voice made him stop and turn back around once more. “There's a storm brewing and it's not gonna be pretty,” Bull said. “You can taste it in the air. Wouldn't wanna be near it when the whole thing blows up. Whoever you're looking out for, you better keep them close.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen had not been to the precinct for several weeks and as always when he came to visit, he took a moment to breathe before entering. He had spent so much time in this building, had made so many memories. But with everything that came afterwards, he couldn't help but feel the old sense of shame welling up inside of him as he looked up at the red brick facade. He usually avoided meeting Cassandra here but now he had no other choice.

One last stop on his list. This would either confirm his suspicions or put his mind at ease. And who better to do that than Captain Cassandra Pentaghast.

He entered through the lobby and made his way straight to the offices in the back of the ground floor. Enough people remembered him from his time as cop so that nobody raised an eyebrow at his behavior. Some of the older guys even greeted him as he passed by. But there were a lot of new faces as well. Young, fresh-faced boys and girls in blue – all with the same mix of excitement and anxiety in their eyes that he remembered so well from his first year.

Cassandra's office was the last one at the end of a long corridor. They had offered her the larger, more impressive one next to the main hall, but she disliked glass walls and walk-ins, so she had opted to the privacy of the smaller one in the back.

Some part of him had expected to catch her reading one of those romance novels that she always read in secret. In the past, he had walked in on her completely enraptured by a particularly interesting scene more than once. But when he opened the door to her office now, he found her hunched over her desk, feverishly leafing through a stack of reports in front of her.

“Working through your break?” he asked with a smile as he closed the door behind him and took a seat on the chair in front of her desk.

Her own smile did nothing to distract from those tired wrinkles around her eyes. _She looks old_ , Cullen thought. Older than she really was. Streaks of steel grey ran through her dark hair and the black kohl around her eyes almost blended in with the dark circles underneath.

“Please tell me you brought me lunch,” she said with a nod to the bag he was carrying.

“I'm afraid not.” He put it down by his feet and tried his best to look apologetic. Cassandra sighed loudly and pushed the reports to one side.

“So this is not a social visit then?” She quirked an eyebrow. He almost laughed at that. He considered Cassandra one of his best friends but he could not remember ever meeting with her without discussing at least one thing that related back to work. Their friendship had started at work and it would always be part of it.

“Not really,” he said, suddenly a little nervous. It was one thing asking Bull about this but he had no idea how Cassandra would react to his suspicions.

She must have noticed his unease because she made an impatient hand gesture. “Get on with it then.”

“I have heard some rumors,” he began. He thought it best not to tell her about his run-in with the mercenaries and all the other details that story included. “About Qunari mercenaries.” She furrowed her brow but did not interrupt him. “Apparently they have been appearing all over town and have started trouble. So I did some digging.”

“That never bodes well,” she muttered but another impatient hand gesture told him to continue.

“There have been 21 arrests of Qunari citizens over the last two months. In all my time at the police department, I have not arrested a single Qunari, so you can imagine my surprise at this number.” He searched her face for some reaction but it stayed blank. “The files say none of them have been processed. They were all released beforehand. No follow-up whatsoever.”

“You don't have access to those files,” Cassandra said. Then, a little bit more panicked: “Please tell me you don't have access to these files.”

“Cassandra...”

She groaned and leaned back in her chair, covering her face with both hands. “Maker,” she said. “Do you want to get me fired? Do you want to get arrested for this?”

A pang of guilt flashed through him but he willed himself to stay calm. “You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important.”

Lowering her hands, Cassandra looked at him. “I know,” she said after a moment. “But I don't know how I can help you with this.”

He bent down to grab the bag at his feet and pulled out a thin paper folder. “I brought this. I just need you to take a look at it and tell me what you think.” He slid it over to her and she opened it with furrowed brow. Silence fell over the room as her eyes darted over the pages.

“What is this?”

“These are the names of all the Qunari that were arrested over the last two months. Including the dates and the arresting officers. Two of them,” he leaned over the desk to point at the names, “were brought to your precinct. Five weeks ago.”

She nodded slowly. “I remember them. We don't see Qunari around here very often.”

Finally a tangible clue. Cullen took a deep breath to calm his excitement. “And do you remember why they weren't processed? As far as I can see they never even saw the inside of a holding cell.”

Cassandra looked up from the list, still frowning. “I only noticed them in passing. When I came back later, they had already been released. You know that's not unusual. It was a busy night.”

He tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. He was about to give up when he noticed a slight shift in her eyes. Almost too small to notice.

She was lying to him.

For a few seconds he was too shocked to react. She had never lied to him. Not once in all the time they knew each other. If she did it now, there had to be a reason. Under any other circumstances, he wouldn't have pushed. But this, he could not let go.

“You're not telling me everything. You know something.”

The shift was instantaneous. He could almost see the wall coming down between them.

“I don't know what you are talking about,” she said coldly.

It hurt. He knew this wasn't personal but it still hurt. “Cassandra, please.” His eyes darted around the room, looking for an explanation, before resting on her hands that still held on to the file, knuckles standing out white. “You didn't know it would be so many. You knew about the two that were here but you didn't know about the others.” By the way she averted her eyes, he knew he was on the right track. “I just need to know why these two were released. You don't need to do anything else.” He paused for a second, brazing himself for the question. “Was it on Chantry orders?”

At that, her head snapped back up and she looked at him with wide eyes. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, it's not a far-fetched thought when you consider how they have taken over the police force.”

Cassandra scoffed. “They haven't taken over anything.”

“They have officially assumed responsibility and authority over all police and military forces throughout the country, Cassandra. That sounds like a take-over to me.” He tried his best to keep the bitterness that boiled up inside him out of his voice. This had nothing to do with his personal feelings. Not much, anyway.

“That doesn't mean they necessarily interfere with our work, Cullen. We are still doing the same job we did when you were here.”

 _Do you?_ He wanted to ask but the words got stuck in his throat. There were some things he would never be able to take back. “But it's true, isn't it?” he said instead. “You typed their names into the computer and that little red Chantry flag popped up to tell you to let them go.”

Cassandra sighed and leaned back in her chair. She looked tired, defeated. That feeling of guilt welled up in him again. She was doing her job. Just like he had. Just like they all had.

“I didn't know they weren't the only ones. I didn't think anything of it.” Her voice was a small weary thing. “I don't know what to make of this, Cullen. And I don't know why you are investigating this all of a sudden.”

“I'm not sure you want to know.” He tried a cautious smile which she accepted with a tiny twitch of her lips.

“Things have changed a lot, haven't they?”

He nodded gravely, feeling the same weariness he found on her face. “They have.”

Her confession was proof enough for him. Even if there had been reason to doubt the words of Velanna and Bull, he would have had to trust Cassandra's. It was the Chantry's doing. A small persistent voice whispering in the back of his mind reminded him that he had always known. And perhaps he really had. But hearing it like this. Seeing the proof with his own eyes. It was a different thing altogether.

“You know, one of these days you could visit me just as a friend. Really bring me lunch or something,” Cassandra said and he could feel himself smiling despite the dread in his chest. She was trying to change the topic. To lighten the mood. And he felt inclined to let her. There was nothing she could do about this now.

“And let you have a real break?” he asked, feigning outrage. “Maker forbid!”

It earned him a real smile this time, albeit still tinted with exhaustion. With a sigh, Cassandra got up from her chair and and handed him back the file.

“I should not have this. Neither should you but since that won't stop you anyway...” But she said it with a amused expression, the tense atmosphere almost forgotten. He took the file and put it back into his bag.

When he straightened back up, she was already busy tidying up her desk. It was a nervous habit she had always had – the need to create order even in the smallest things when faced with chaos. He was about to get up and help her, when his gaze fell on one of the papers that had slipped from a pile of files to her left. He recognized the crest on the header immediately.

“What is this?” he asked as he picked it up. His mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

Cassandra looked up, saw the paper he held and leaned forward to snatch it out of his hand. “You know you shouldn't read that,” she snapped, any attempt at joviality forgotten. “You're not a cop anymore, Cullen. You can't keep snooping around confidential files just because you feel like it.”

When she was talking this much, he knew she had something to hide. Dread spread up his spine. The same feeling that had gripped him when he had smelled the lyrium. The same fear he had felt when he had talked to Samson.

“Why are you getting reports from the Templars, Cassandra?” he asked, surprised by the calmness in his own voice. “What is going on?”

He could see her clenching her fists, so hard her knuckles stood out white. “I can't talk about it, Cullen. You know that.”

“Don't you think that I, of all people, have the right to know what's going on with the Templars?” The muscles in his jaw were so tense they almost hurt. Cassandra's eyes flicked to the paper in her hand and then back to his face.

“It's not...” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I can't.”

“Are they recruiting again? Are they asking for recommendations?” He didn't care how panicked his voice sounded now. All he could think about were the young, fresh-faced cops outside of this door. Anyone of them would have jumped eagerly at the opportunity of promotion. Making good money. Fighting the honorable fight. Walking straight into the trap.

But Cassandra shook her head. “No!” she called out, almost relieved. “Oh Maker, no. It's not about that.” She ran her fingers through her short hair and let out a deep breath. “It's just about the protests.”

With a surprised yelp she stumbled back as Cullen jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair.

“WHAT?!” He grabbed the edge of her desk, gripping hard to steady himself. The world seemed to be spinning around him.

Cassandra had gone pale. Her eyes wide, he stared at him. “Cul–”

“No, tell me everything!” he demanded. “What protests? The elven ones?”

“Y-yes.” She was obviously alarmed by his behavior but he had no time to feel guilty about that now. At least her insistence on confidentiality seemed to waver in the face of her shock. “The Chantry called them in to deal with the protesters. It was decided we weren't equipped to handle the situation anymore.”

“What? Why?” His heart beating fast in his too-tight chest. “What could they do that you can't?” It didn't make sense. The Templars were a special force which reported to the Chantry directly. In the past they had been used to deal with mages but since the Thickening of the Veil that had hardly been needed anymore. Ever since, their operations had become even more obscure and secretive. A move out in the open like this was unheard of. It had to be a mistake. Cullen tried to calm his breathing but it came out shaking.

“They say the elves have mages,” Cassandra said quietly. He couldn't remember ever having seen her so pale.

“So? That hasn't been a problem for the Templars for, what, over a hundred years now?” He had started pacing in front of her desk. Needing to move. Needing to do _something_.”

“No, you don't understand.” She walked around the desk to put her hand on his arm, stopping him from moving around. Her gaze was intense and the fear he saw behind it made his skin crawl. “They are saying the elves are planning an attack. Bringing ancient elven artifacts into the city. Cullen, this is terrorism.”

He shook his head. “But that's ridiculous!”

“Perhaps. But a suspicion like that is enough to give the Templars the Right.”

If felt like someone had pulled the earth from underneath his feet.

“The Right,” he repeated, his own voice just a hollow sound.

“They will take in anyone who comes to this protest. Not just Revas.”

“And what if they resist? Or try to run?” Why was he asking questions to which he already knew the answers?

Cassandra shook her head. “You know what the Right entails.”

He could not think about it. He could not allow himself to fall into that rabbit hole. Something she had said, something he had missed earlier, crept back through the fog of fear that clouded his brain. “You said _this_ protest. As in today?”

“Yes. The arrived in the city two days ago.”

_No. Elaria._ _No no no no._

“It's a student protest!” He stepped back. “They are just kids, Cass! None of them are terrorists!”

She lifted her hands – a gesture of helplessness. A gesture of defeat. “It is out of my hands.”

He looked at her, disbelieving. Disgusted. He wanted to grab her. Shake her until she saw what was happening. What she had allowed to happen. She was supposed to be protecting the people of this city!

But there was not time. No time to argue.

“You need to tell me where they are. Where are they coming from?” He was already grabbing his bag from the floor and putting on his jacket.

She tried to step in his way. “Cullen, please...”

“Cassandra!” His voice was sharp. No time. No time for this.

She told him.

He started running.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think I'd let them go on a normal date? (I'm so sorry.)
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything starts out so promising and then goes rapidly downhill from there.

It all started out so promising.

With one hand Elaria shielded her eyes from the bright sun as she let her gaze wander over the crowd. There were more people than she had expected, the square already packed even though the march would not start for another thirty minutes. She was glad for it. They needed every support they could get.

“There are so many people here,” she said to Merrill who was overseeing Nathaniel putting up a banner on the side of the truck that would later lead the protesters through the city center.

"I think Sera may have bullied a few of them into coming," Merrill said almost cheerfully. Elaria grinned. Of course she had. But even though she never would have doubted the power of Sera's intimidation techniques, she was sure that the promise of music and possibly booze had been more effective in convincing people to show up. And it would explain why there were almost as many humans and dwarves among the protesters as there were elves.

"I love student protests," Merrill sighed as she followed Elaria's gaze. "They are always so colorful." She was right. The disbandment of the Elven program was a serious matter but the protest itself almost seemed more like a celebration. Brightly colored banners and flags waved above the crowd and loud music was already blasting from the speakers mounted on the three trucks that would accompany them during the protest. It was a party. But Elaria didn't mind.

Velanna, on the other hand, did not look as pleased. She made a disapproving grunting noise from her spot up on the truck where she was holding one end of the banner while Nathaniel was fastening the zip ties meant to keep it in place.

"They are going to be too drunk to march by the time we need to go," she said pointing towards a group of dwarves sharing a flask.

Elaria shrugged. "Even if they do, they'll come back. And tell their friends."

Velanna did not answer and Elaria felt her silence like a slap to the face. The air between them was still icy. This was the first time she had seen Velanna since they had taken Loranil to the Clinic and apparently Velanna had decided to ignore her completely now. Surrounded by the exuberant atmosphere of the protest, Elaria almost didn't care. Almost.

"I'm sure it will be fine, Velanna," Merrill said quickly. She must have sensed the tension between them but had not said anything about it until now.

Nathaniel jumped down from the truck and landed next to Elaria with a groan. "I'm getting too old for this."

She did not deign this with a response and before Nathaniel could say more, a loud shriek cut through the air. Sera pushed her way through the crowd, using her elbows generously.

"Ela!" she called out. "I've been looking for you all over this bloody square!" Her Denerim accent was as thick as ever and Elaria couldn't help but smile as she heard it.

"Oh, come here, you!" She pulled Sera into a hug and despite her sputtered protest she felt Sera hugging her back. "I haven't see you in ages!"

"That's because you're always so busy with that Dalish crap!" Sera stepped back, brushing her hair behind her ears. A nervous tick Elaria knew all too well. "Always studying and stuff."

"I'm sorry." Elaria knew that it wasn't the studying that really bothered Sera. It was Revas. Her work for Solas. But this was not the place to talk about it and Sera knew it. Elaria was almost surprised by her friend's restraint. She had seen her fly off the handle for less than this.

"I brought someone," Sera said and Elaria started to see things a bit more clearly.

"Did you now?" She couldn't hide the grin even though it earned her a punch in the arm.

"Oh, stuff it," Sera grumbled. "It's not like that. She's just a friend, alright?" She turned around and waved at someone in the crowd. A tall elven girl moved gracefully through the spaces between people and came towards them. If that was the girl Sera had brought, Elaria could understand why she was on her best behavior.

"This is Tabris. She's a friend from Denerim."

The girl stepped closer and extended her hand, first to Merrill and then to Elaria. "You must be Elaria. I have heard so much about you. Nice to meet you." She had a pleasant deep voice, befitting of her kind brown eyes and her easy smile. Elaria shook her hand and smiled back.

"This is the first time I'm hearing about you, but nice to meet you as well."

Tabris laughed. "I'm only in town for a couple of days but I'm glad if I can help here. I heard they are going to shut down your program?"

Elaria nodded. "Yeah, they've been trying for ages but this time they might actually go through with it."

"They scratched the Elven program at our university two years ago. Damn shame."

"What do you study?" Merrill asked.

"Dance." There was a tiny edge to the smile on Tabris' lips that Elaria could not quite read. From the way Sera was snickering next to her, she knew that there was something she was missing but before she could ask more, Nathaniel came back from his last check-in with the truck's driver. She had not even noticed he had been gone.

"All set," he said. "If you're ready we can get going."

Elaria nodded. "Okay. Let's go." She shot a last look at Tabris who was tying back her long silvery blonde hair into a high ponytail.

“I'll go tell the other drivers that we're ready,” Merrill said. “I'll be right back.” She was swallowed by the crowd before Elaria could even reply.

“We might as well wait up there,” Nathaniel sighed and helped them climb up on the back of the truck. From up here, Elaria had an even better view over the square. People were getting ready to move and someone had turned up the volume of the music so it could still be heard over the chatter and laughter of the crowd. Excitement bubbled in her chest. With numbers and an energy like this...

“Something's not right.”

Elaria turned her head to look at Nathaniel. His jaw was set as he stared out into the square, his brow furrowed in concentration.

She scoffed. He was too serious for his own good, as always, but dismissing his worries as pessimism usually only made him mad. “What are you talking about?”

He clicked his tongue. “Where is the media? The reporters?”

Elaria followed his gaze, keeping an eye out for the familiar glare of camera lenses or the usual huddle of reporters at the edge of the crowd. There were usually less of them at student protests but none at all? That was unusual.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” she said more to herself than to him but his nervousness seemed less unreasonable all of a sudden.

The shift in mood was gradual but once it had started, there was no stopping it. There were three streets leading from and to the square and even from her position on top of the truck, Elaria could not see all of them clearly. It was the shouts she heard first. It sounded like the disgruntled buzzing of bees – starting out quietly but growing louder and louder until it swelled into a wave that broke into a single high-pitched scream.

“What the fuck...” Sera pulled herself up onto the tower of speakers that were mounted on the back of the truck and shielded her eyes against the sun. She went pale. “Oh no...”

“What is it?” Velanna asked, craning her neck to see better. Elaria was tempted to climb up the speakers herself. But that wasn't necessary because in this moment, the crowd split to reveal a black horde of men storming the square.

“The cops!” someone in the crowd yelled but Elaria immediately saw that those were no cops. Or at least none she had ever seen before. They wore black from head to toe, including reflecting black masks to cover their faces. And they were armed with the sort of assault rifles she had never seen outside of a movie theater. This did not look like cops trying to prevent a protest. This looked like an invasion.

With a loud crackling sound the music around the square sputtered out and an unnatural silence fell over all of them before the confused murmur of the crowd started to swell up again. Two seconds later, the sound of a voice replaced the music, blasting from the speakers of all the trucks, including the one Elaria was standing on.

“Attention. You are all in violation of Chantry Code 6-41. All protesters are required to surrender themselves for questioning. We ask for your cooperation to resolve this without unnecessary violence.” It was a pleasant female voice, speaking with all the calmness of someone reading the announcements in a local mall.

“What the fuck is Chantry Code 6-41? And how did they jack our signal?” Velanna asked furiously and crouched over her laptop that was connected to the speakers.

Nathaniel just shrugged, his lips a tight line. “Whatever it is, it's going to get us all arrested.”

“But we have all the permits! They can't just shut us down!”

Despite Velanna's efforts, the announcement repeated, somehow even louder than before, and Elaria watched a blond elf emerging from the crowd and approaching the armed men who had come to a stop in the middle of the square. Even from this distance she recognized Tamlen, another student from the Elven program. He had his hands outstretched to show that he was unarmed and walked slowly. Elaria could not hear what he was saying. When he reached the men, everything moved so quickly that it took her a moment to understand what was happening. Within a second, Tamlen was on the ground, two men upon him with a third pointing his rifle at his head. Screams erupted from the crowd as the people instinctively moved back at the sight of violence.

The announcement started up a third time, only to be interrupted by a new one. “Cooperation is mandatory. Please be informed that Chantry Code 6-41 authorizes our officers to use force against you. All resistance will be answered accordingly.” It sounded almost chirpy.

With horror, Elaria watched the armed men spreading out towards the people on either side, pulling individuals from the crowd, seemingly at random. In the background she saw more men in black entering the square from the other two streets, effectively pushing the protesters further in.

Nathaniel grabbed her by the arm, his short nails digging into her skin. “They are separating the elves,” he hissed and Elaria realized he was right. They were splitting the group, herding elven students into the Northern corner of the square like cattle. Dread gripped her like a cold hand around her throat. Tabris pulled Sera down from the speakers.

“Don't let them see you. They are coming for us,” she said. For some reason she still sounded calm.

“No,” Sera said. “Fuck this cooperation bullshit. I'm not going anywhere with these guys.”

As if the people in the crowd had heard her, the angry hum of voices started swelling up again. Scattered shouts rose from the masses. Perhaps they had noticed the separation as well. Or maybe one of the masked men had gotten a little too rough too quickly. Afterwards, it was difficult to say what sparked it. One second the protesters were still to stunned to react, the next they pushed back with all they had. And Elaria realized, these people had not been making empty threats when talking about using force. Shouts of anger quickly turned into screams of pain and fear as the men in black answered the resistance with batons, rifle butts and heavy boots.

“You need to get out of here. Quickly! Over the wall!” Nathaniel grabbed Elaria by the wrist and pulled her back. The truck was parked right at the edge the square, next to a high stone wall separating the plaza from the next street. It was too high to climb from street level but from the back of the truck they might just be able to make it.

Tabris was already helping Sera up the wall but several loud explosions had all of them whirl around. Smoke billowed up from a few spots among the crowd, quickly obscuring the view. The smell was biting and Elaria's eyes started burning immediately.

“Go, go, go!” she shouted and gave Tabris a boost so she could roll over the wall herself. As soon as her blonde head had vanished behind the edge, she felt Nathaniel's hands around her waist lifting her up until she straddled the wall. On the other side, she saw a narrow alley, lined by a thick hedge just underneath the wall and tall brick buildings on the other side. No sign of Tabris or Sera or anyone else for that matter.

She turned around. She could not stop herself. From the height of the wall she was able to overlook the whole square and the sight made her stomach drop. It was a war zone. Even through the thick, biting smoke she could see the violence that was spreading through the crowd like a wildfire. The strange armed men had pushed the main part of the protesters towards the west side of the square from where there would not be able to escape. Anyone who tried to make run for it, was taken down immediately. Elaria let out a scream when she saw a young elf being thrown to the ground by two men, his face hitting the asphalt with so much force that his body went limp instantly before they dragged him away.

Nathaniel had seen it as well. He put a hand on her thigh, urging her forward. “You need to go!”

“Not without you!” Elaria craned her neck. “Where is Merrill?”

“I will find her and get her out of here,” Nathaniel promised but before she could reply, a loud crash from the back of the truck had them both spinning around. Velanna had started cutting the plastic ties that held the tower of speakers in place and was pushing them down from the truck onto the armed men below. Elaria had not even noticed them getting so close. She could not see what exactly Velanna was doing but it had to be magic. Sparks ran from her fingertips into the speakers, causing them to shortcut and burst into flames. The wind carried over the smell of fried electronics and molten plastic.

Velanna let out a wild laugh when one of the speakers burst into tiny burning pieces on the street right in front of the approaching men who were forced to jump back a few steps to avoid being hit. Elaria had never seen magic used this way, as a weapon. Even with just the little amounts of energy Velanna was channeling into the speakers, it had to be draining her of mana pretty quickly. But she would not go down without a fight.

She turned to them then, a look of wicked satisfaction on her face. She opened her mouth, another laugh on her lips.

Then, nothing.

A blinding white light, so bright that Elaria had to cover her eyes, exploded just in front the truck. There was no sound, no crash or thunder. Just light. And when it was gone, so was Velanna's laughter. Just a surprised “Oh” on her lips, her eyes wide in her pale face. She slumped into a heap like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

Elaria screamed. She tried to jump off the wall, tried to get to her friend. But Nathaniel's hands were around her waist like vices. She watched helplessly as two of the men pulled Velanna's lifeless body from the truck and out of view.

“Elaria!” Nathaniel's voice was sharp. Almost sharp enough to snap her out of her shock. “Go!”

She just shook her head. Speechless for once.

“There is no time!” With a last look over his shoulder, Nathaniel did the only thing that he could think of. He pushed her.

She didn't even cry out when she tumbled backwards off the wall. With a dull thud she landed on her back – her fall only softened by the thorny hedge just below. The pain of a hundred thorns scratching her skin was enough to rip her out of her stupor. Grunting, she scrambled to her feet, instantly looking up. Looking for a way to get back over the wall, back to the others. But it was no use. All she saw was the hedge and it was neither strong nor tall enough to help her get back up.

“Ela!”

She whirled around. On the other side of the alley, crouching in a house entrance, was Sera. She looked about as scared as Elaria felt. Cuts and bruises covered her arms and legs. She must have fallen into the same hedge.

“Where are the others?” Elaria asked as she hunkered down next to her. “Tabris?”

Sera pointed towards the end of the alley. “She went to see if that route is clear. I wanted to wait in case anyone else was coming.”

Elaria swallowed and looked back to the wall. The noise from the square was more quiet here but she could still here the screams and shouts. “I don't think anyone else will make it.”

Sera spat out a string of curses. “Who the fuck are these assholes? They are not normal cops.”

“No, they are not. I don't know.” Elaria ran her hands over her face as if it could help erase the memories. “They did some weird light thing to Velanna, I think. Knocked her right out.”

“But she's not...” She did not finish her question and Elaria was saved from having to answer when a loud whistling sounded through the alley.

Tabris stood at the end of the street, waving them towards her. They got up and ran over to her, keeping close to the shadows of the high buildings on the right.

“Are you alright?” Tabris asked and Elaria nodded. “Okay. There is no way we're getting back on that square. All roads to the South are blocked by these guys.”

Elaria threw another look over her shoulder, back to the wall separating them from her friends. She knew there was no way, even though every cell in her body screamed at her, telling her to go back. “So we run,” she said, her heart heavy as lead. “We run and get help.”

Tabris nodded, her mouth a grim thin line. “I don't know what else to do.”

They made their way through alleys and backstreets which were all completely deserted. It was the same eerie feeling of wrongness as the one that had alerted Nathaniel in the first place. They had planned this, Elaria realized. They had cleaned out the streets in a radius of at least five blocks to do this. And she feared what they would find at the edge of this dead zone.

Her question was answered a few turns later, when they ducked into an alley to their right, leading further away from the violence of the square. With a yelp, Elaria stumbled into Tabris who had come to an abrupt halt in front of her.

“What...” The rest of her words got stuck in her throat.

There were five of them. Five tall masked men, armed to the teeth. And all five of them indisputably looking right at them.

“Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

Elaria was running. Her legs and lungs were burning but she kept pushing on. She could not hear the men but she knew they could not be far behind. With something that sounded strangely close to a sob, she threw herself into a different alley, darker and narrower than the last.

_Please don't be a dead end. Please don't be a dead end._

She could not see out of her left eye, blinded by the blood that came gushing out of the cut above her eyebrow. She had tried to wipe it away, stop the bleeding somehow. But it was no use. So she just let it run over her cheek and slowly dripp down her neck and into the collar of her jacket.

Her mind was still fuzzy and she was unsure how she had gotten the injury in the first place. She must have hit her head on the rough building facade when she had stumbled back to evade one of the men trying to grab her. Or perhaps it came from the struggle just seconds later, right before Tabris had swiped one guy off his feet with an almost graceful low kick to the kneecap. A dancer, alright. She didn't remember much after that. Just Sera scratching and kicking like a cat. Judging by the sound of it, she must have broken one guy's nose in the process.

And then, running.

The pain had only set in two blocks later, when the adrenaline and shock had slowly started to ebb away. Her head was still swimming and for just a short second she leaned against the corner of a building, catching her breath. Trying to figure out where the hell she even was.

The alley was dark but at the end she could see bright daylight. Even through the rush of her own blood in her ears she could her the sound of cars on one of the main roads. She must have reached the edge of the dead zone. The noise of the square had long since died down. Elaria could not stop to think about what that meant. She stumbled forward, keeping one hand on the wall next to her to keep steady.

She had lost Velanna and Nathaniel. She had lost Merrill. She had even lost Sera and Tabris. Running was all she had now.

She heard them behind her. Heavy boots on concrete. Barked orders cutting through the silence. They would find her, even here in the shadows. She covered her mouth with her free hand, willing the sob that was crawling up her throat to go away. She needed to keep going. Just three more houses between her and the sunlit street. She could see the cars now, people hurrying by. They would not dare to take her once she had made it there. They would not grab her out in the open like that. Or would they?

She forced herself forward, one step after the other. Swaying on her feet now.

And then suddenly, the world was spinning. Strong relentless hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her back. She could feel the body of a man behind her. Someone dragging her back into the darkness. She reacted almost completely on instinct. With a grunt, she let herself fall back, using the man's momentum to make him stumble enough to loosen his grip. She dropped to her knees, turning slightly and lifting her elbow to ram it into her attacker – preferably somewhere it hurt. But the man was no idiot either and turned around just in time so her elbow only made contact with his hipbone. It still drew a pained hiss from him and made him release his grip on here. She was on the ground, her vision obscured by blood and nausea. But she had to get up. She had to get away. She...

“Elaria!” The familiar voice cut through the haze like a knife. “It's me!”

She looked up.

“Cullen?” Her voice broke. All she could do was stare at him. This man, the last person she would ever have expected to see here. A sudden fixed point in a world that kept shifting and turning.

“Maker, your face...” He lost no time and bent down to help her to her feet. One arm around her waist to keep her standing. With the other hand he carefully lifted her chin to examine the damage. He was pale, fear written plainly on his face. “You're alive,” he said. “Thank the Maker, you're alive.”

 _Your Maker has nothing to do with it_ , she wanted to say but no words came out of her mouth.

“We need to get out of here. They are still looking for you.” He tore his eyes away from her for a moment to look over his shoulder. “I have a plan. But I need you to walk a bit further. Can you do that?”

“Can't be worse than this,” she croaked, her voice a dry painful thing.

He looked back at her and she saw it in his eyes. There were plenty of things that could be worse than this.

Gently, she pushed against his chest. “Just get me out of here.”

 

* * *

 

He led her back into the dark alley, away from the crowded main street. She did not question it, for once too tired to let her mind run wild with suspicion.

He stopped in front of one of the house entrances she had passed before. Quickly, he guided her up the few steps and after a short moment of hesitation, pressed all the bell buttons next to the door frame. For ten long seconds, nothing happened. Then, there was a low buzzing sound and Cullen pushed open the door to let them in. It was an apartment building and a lot nicer on the inside than the grimy brick facade let on. A bright limestone staircase led up from the foyer but Cullen went to the shiny elevator doors to their left instead.

“We need to get to the garage,” he explained while repeatedly hitting the elevator button. “I left my car there.”

Elaria leaned against the wall, careful not to smear any blood on the wallpaper. “You have your car parked in these people's garage?”

As soon as the doors opened, he ushered her inside. “No, they rent space in the public parking garage next door. The whole block is connected underground.”

“Please tell me you know this because of your very surprising connections to the criminal underground. It would make you so... rugged.” Her smile was thin and even moving her face a little bit shot a wave of pain through her forehead.

“Nothing so exciting, I'm afraid. I ran security for the place last year.”

The elevator doors opened to reveal a long, dimly-lit hallway leading on into the darkness. Cullen wrapped his arm around her waist to support her as they hurried along.

“I don't think they'll be down here,” he said when they reached a heavy metal door. “But I can't be sure.”

The actual garage was even darker than the hallway but when they stepped inside, motion sensors lit up several fluorescent lights along the low ceiling. Electric humming filled the silence.

“This way.” They hurried past a long line of parked cars which got less and less expensive the further they moved away from the apartment building. When they finally reached Cullen's old Ford, it almost blended in perfectly with the surrounding cars.

Elaria leaned against the car while Cullen was fumbling for his keys. When he wanted to open the passenger door for her, she shook her head.

“I need to get into the trunk,” she said a little breathlessly.

“What? No.”

“Yes, I do. Being an elf is conspicuous enough in this area today. But look at me.” She gestured towards her bloody face. “They wouldn't even have to stop the car to see that something is wrong.”

He shook his head vehemently. “I'm not putting you in the trunk like a piece of luggage, Elaria. And your head...”

“My head will be better the sooner we get out of here. So don't argue with me and open the blighted trunk!” It came out a lot harsher than she had intended. This day was finally taking its toll. With shaking hands she reached for him, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “I'm sorry. I...”

“No, you're right.” He smiled and suddenly looked as tired as she felt. “But that doesn't mean I have to like it.”

She could have kissed him then. Her head was pounding and she was bleeding and every bone in her body was aching. But she still could have kissed him.

Instead, she crawled into the small trunk of his car and counted her breaths in the darkness as he drove her to safety.

 

* * *

 

The darkness was a treacherous thing. It whispered doubts and suspicions into the ear as she lay there, engulfed in the smell of old car and blood. Cold sweat on her forehead and her heart beating wildly in her chest. She had not doubted Cullen, not once. Had accepted his miraculous appearance in her time of need, his unwavering certainty of where to go and what to do. After everything, what possible reason would he have now to betray her?

But the darkness kept whispering and Elaria listened, despite herself. Images of Merrill vanishing in the crowd and Velanna being dragged away flashed before her inner eye. And the memory of the elf being slammed to the ground. And faintly, in the back of her mind, the screams. In the darkness it all came back to her.

When the car finally stopped after what felt like hours to her, Elaria almost expected the trunk to be opened by armed men. Black, lifeless masks staring down on her. Weapons ready to shoot at the slightest movement. But it was only Cullen, his golden curls illuminated from behind like a halo around his head. And she had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Remind me never to do this again,” she said but her voice was more of a hoarse whisper. His expression was pained as he bent down and picked her up, like he had done that night at the Clinic. She snaked her arms around his neck for support and for a moment, she pressed her face into the soft fabric of his jacket, not caring about the pain or about the bloody mess she would leave.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“No.” She was too tired to lie. “But I will be, I think.” She looked up and around. Somehow she had thought he would drive her back to her own apartment. But she did not know this neighborhood. It wasn't Lowtown, as far she could tell, but the run-down state of the buildings lining the street was not much better.

“The streets were swarming with police,” Cullen explained, sounding almost a bit embarrassed. “And my place was closer.”

“No, it's fine. It might actually be a good idea to stay away from home for now. Until I know what is really going on.”

He carried her up the steps to his front door where he gently put her on her own two feet again. “I thought you were a small fish?”

She laughed. Despite everything, she could still laugh at at. “I don't know. Nothing feels very small to me today.”

Cullen led her into the building. The air inside was cool and smelled slightly musty but the foyer and staircase looked cleaner than the outside of the building would have suggested.

“No elevator, I'm afraid,” he said and helped her up the stairs. Her step was steadier than before but she was still grateful for his hand on the small of her back as they made their way up.

Cullen's apartment was on the second floor and despite everything that had happened today, Elaria couldn't help but be a little curious as to what it would look like.

It was small. And it smelled like him. That were the first things she noticed. After a tiny dark hallway followed a living room with large windows but depressingly dark furniture and stark white walls. A man's apartment, she thought. Almost impersonal if it had not been for the dozens of books that were piled up in staggeringly high stacks all over the room. There was even a pile on the couch and Cullen hurried to put them away so Elaria could sit down.

“If I had known you would come here today...”

She could not believe he was embarrassed about this even after all he had done for her. “Cullen,” she said and gently took a book from his hands before he could flung it into a corner like the rest. Pa _r Vollen Through the Ages_. But now was not the time to tease him about his choice of reading material. She looked up at him.

“Right,” he said, sounding defeated. “I was just...”

“You've done enough.” She hoped it sounded as sincere as she felt. She took off her jacket which was stiff with her blood and dirt but the shirt underneath did not look much better. Cullen crouched down a bit so he could take a look at the wound on her forehead, his fingers hovering just an inch from her skin.

“It has stopped bleeding but I think you still need a healer.”

She scoffed. “What I need are some fucking answers. And maybe a stiff drink.” She stopped for a second. “And a bathroom. To clean up.”

A tiny smile curved his lips. “I can't help with the drink but I do have a bathroom.” He let his eyes wander over her blood-stained shirt. “And some clothes for you to change into.” He got up and vanished through a door at the other end of the room. Through the open crack she could just make out the edge of a bed and next to it, another pile of books.

He came back with clean t-shirt and showed her the way to the bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was small but functional. When Elaria looked into the mirror, she understood why Cullen had reacted the way he had when he had found her in the alley. She looked dreadful. The entire left side of her face was covered in dark crusty blood, safe for her eye where she had kept wiping away the blood with the back of her hand. And while the wound on her forehead had stopped bleeding, it still looked horrific. She was pale, dark circles already forming underneath her eyes. And she looked scared. Even now, in the safety of Cullen's apartment, the fear was so evident in her own eyes that it made it difficult to look at herself. If she had needed any more proof that life was definitely not like in the movies, this was it. No tiny decoratively placed cut on the otherwise unblemished heroine's face. No cute tremble of the lips as defiance finally conquered fear. No, she looked exactly as fucked up and terrifyingly broken as she felt. And when the tears finally came, she could do nothing but watch herself fall apart in the mirror.

 

* * *

 

He did not ask her what had taken her so long when she finally came out of the bathroom and she appreciated it. She had cleaned away as much of the blood as she could without actually touching the wound and then changed into the shirt he had given her. It was too big of course, the hem almost brushing her knees .

“I made tea,” he said. “Your phone was in the pocket of your jacket, so I used it to call your roommate. Uh, Adaar? I hope that was alright.”

She nodded and sat down on the couch next to him. He had cleared away more of the books, she noticed. Her hands were still shaking when she took the cup of tea from the coffee table but somehow Cullen's presence calmed her down and she had to fight the urge to curl up against him. It wasn't logical. But when had anything regarding Cullen ever been logical?

“Is Adaar coming here?” she asked.

“As soon as possible. Apparently most of the roads around the inner city are still blocked. He might have to wait until it's fully dark.”

At that, she looked out of the window. Twilight had set in and the bit of sky she could see from where she sat was tinted red, set ablaze by a sunset hidden behind the tall buildings of the city. The light in the apartment was soft and dwindling and when her gaze wandered back to Cullen, his face was cast in shadows.

The air between them, while not uncomfortable, was heavy with unspoken words.

“So, are we going to talk about this?” She tried to keep her voice calm and watched his face closely.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair but he did not avert his eyes. Somehow she knew that he would be honest with her if she asked.

“You must have questions,” he said.

“More than a few. But let's start with how you knew where to find me.”

A look of relief darted over his face, too fast for her to be sure that it had really been there. “Cassandra told me.”

“That's your cop friend, right? But these... men were not police.”

He shook his head. “No, they were not.”

She paused for a moment and stared into her rapidly cooling tea. “Did you know this would happen?” She did not dare to look up but she heard his sharp intake of breath. “I need to ask, you know that.”

She felt his hand on her arm, an almost tentative touch. “I didn't find out until it was too late. And then I drove to the protest straight away but the whole neighborhood had been shut down. I only found you because I heard you fighting with them in the alley.”

Her head snapped back up. “You saw that? What about my friends? The two girls I was with? Did they get away?”

He nodded. “I think so. They ran away in the other direction. Forcing these guys to split up was probably the only reason why you got away at all.”

Relief washed over her. If Sera and Tabris got away they might have made it out as well.

“You were fast,” he said, his voice with just a hint of pride. “I almost lost you myself.

“You know running is what I do best.” She smiled wearily, another wave of exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her. “But I don't think I could have outrun these guys. Or their bullets.”

“No, probably not.”

“They did something to Velanna,” she suddenly heard herself say. The memory of her friend falling to the ground was still sharp in her mind. “There was this weird light. Almost like magic but not quite. I've never seen anything like it.”

The fingers on her arm stilled for a moment before he pulled away. “A smite,” he said and at the sound of certainty in his voice, the last of her doubts just fell away.

“You know them.” It wasn't a question. Somehow, she had known from the second she had recognized him in that alley. There was no fear in her, even as she watched his face contort with guilt. “You know who they are.”

His expression calmed for a moment before he answered. “I do.”

It was the same strange calm that she felt inside of her. The calm of the inevitable.

“How?”

For a few heartbeats he just looked at her, his amber eyes searching her face. Then, a sigh.

“Because, for a while at least, I used to be one of them.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient with me while I struggled with terrible writer's block. I hope you all enjoyed this. :)
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the truth comes out and plans are made.
> 
> Warning: Mentions of addiction and drug use.

He didn’t know what he expected. Perhaps that she would recoil from him in fear or disgust. Or that she would run again. Grab her things and flee. He was ready for that as well. After everything, she deserved the truth - with all the horrible consequences if necessary. 

But she did not run. She did not even move an inch, no further distance between them. She just turned her head and looked back out of window, her face unreadable. He could not look away, stared at her profile. Her straight nose, the delicate lines of the vallaslin on her cheeks. Even with the wound on her forehead and blood crusted in her hair, she was beautiful. He had not seen it before. Not like this, in such an abstract way. 

He wanted to take her hand. He wanted her to look at him like she had before. With that inexplicable trust. With hope. But the truth hung in the air between them like a heavy palpable thing. Insurmountable and unavoidable.

“Are you going to tell me about it?” she suddenly asked and he almost jumped. “All of it?” She sounded tired. So exhausted it almost broke his heart. Through all of this, this whole blighted day, she had not shed a single tear. Not in front of him anyway. 

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said and knew in his heart that it was true. He was tired of the secrets and tired of hiding. Years of silence weighed on his chest and tied his tongue. Words he had never said to anyone but to the hollow-eyed man in the mirror, spoken only because they would have burned right through him otherwise. 

Finally, she looked at him. Her elven eyes gleamed in the dim light, wide and alert. “Good,” she said and shifted her body, pulling one leg underneath the other to sit more comfortably. There was something reassuring about it. _I’m not going anywhere._ She did not need to say it out loud. 

“I don’t know where to start.” He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darting through the room as if he could find an answer there. 

“Tell me who they are. The men in the masks.”

“They work for the Chantry,” he said. “A private military of sorts. Templars.” 

At the word, he could see her stiffen. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Templars? Like the Templar Order? Mage hunters? I thought they were disbanded centuries ago?” 

He tried to hide his surprise but he must have done a poor job of it because she furrowed her brow. For the first time, she looked honestly irritated. 

“What?”, she asked. “We do have books in the Dalish camps, you know?” 

He lifted his hands in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry, that’s not what…” He sighed. “Most people don’t remember, that is all.” 

For a moment, she kept glaring at him. Then, her expression softened a bit and she nodded curtly. “Alright. I didn’t meant to get to defensive. Force of habit, I guess. Please, continue.” 

“It’s the same order you have read about, actually. After the Thickening of the Veil, they started working in secret. Even if there was no need for mage hunters anymore, the Chantry wasn’t about to give up on one of their biggest assets, right?” 

“So they have been around all this time? And nobody ever noticed anything? What have they been doing?” 

He sighed. “I don’t know all the details. They are special forces. As far as I know they’ve worked mostly overseas. Par Vollen. Seheron. That sort of thing. But also a lot of the Chantry’s dirty work on the continent. Ferelden. Orlais, mostly.” 

“They did not seem very covert to me.” Her eyes glazed over and he knew that in her mind, she was back on the square. Back in that alley. 

“It’s unusual, I agree. I’ve never heard about them operating like this.” 

She clicked her tongue. “You told me you used to be a cop. Was that a lie?” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I worked at the police department when they approached me for recruitment. It was a good offer. Good money, the promise of excitement.” It was embarrassing to think back to his younger self, so gullible and trusting. But he found no judgement in Elaria’s eyes, so he continued. “They took me to Kirkwall for training and in the beginning, everything was good. But things got rough. The tests they made us go through… It wasn’t about testing our strength or intelligence. They wanted to see how well we would follow orders. How well we could keep our mouths shut.” He took a deep breath, the memories of those months like a hot coal in his stomach. “They actively encouraged abuse. Hazing. And I kept quiet for too long. When I finally spoke up, it was almost too late.”

He could see she was trying to keep her face as calm and blank as possible but she could not quite hide the hint of compassion that softened her features for a second. It gave him the courage to tell the rest.

“After a few months, they sacked me. Told me I wasn't cut out for it. I don't know.” He ran his fingers through his hair, old pain flaring up in this eyes. “For a while, I thought that was just an excuse to get rid of me because I had asked too many questions. But after seeing what they do, perhaps they were right. You know, I'm good at my job. I would have been good at that one as well. But I want to help people, protect them. Not... whatever they are doing.”

Elaria shook her head. “I don't think you could have been like them. They were...” She stopped, lost for words.

“Who knows, maybe after a while I could have. I wasn't myself during that time.”

“And they just let you go? They don't seem like the sort of organization you can just walk out of.” As all her other questions, she posed this one just as calmly and without judgement, but Cullen thought he heard just a hint of suspicion in her voice. After everything she had seen today, he could not blame her.

He laughed dryly, his gaze wandering around the room, desperate for a fixed point so he would not have to look at her. “You're right. They're not.” The old familiar feeling of shame rolled up in him. “They told me to go home, to go back to my old life. But not before getting me hooked on lyrium.” 

When he heard her sharp gasp, he looked up. “Lyrium? Like the mages use?” 

“It’s similar, yes. The stuff the Templars use is stronger, highly concentrated. They…” He cleared his throat. “They inject it intravenously.” 

She looked horrified, her hands balled into fists in her lap. “But why?”

“Back in the day it was used for special Templar abilities to suppress a mage’s abilities. Like the smite they used on your friend today. But nowadays it’s just used to make them stronger. It heightens the senses while dulling all emotions. The perfect combination for the sort of soldier they are looking for. And the addiction ensures that nobody strays.” 

“But you got out.” 

He sighed. “I’m still an addict, Elaria. I’ve been clean for two years now. Before that, I was a mess. Lost my money, my friends. My job.” He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “I’m better now. I go to meetings. I work. I keep my head down. There aren’t many of us. Only few get out and of those who do, most don’t make it through the withdrawal. That’s what they are counting on, I think. That we just die.” 

It’s a revelation he had hardly ever admitted to himself but in his heart, he knew it was true. As far as the Templars were concerned, he was collateral a best. Or, if he dared to open his mouth, a threat to the whole organization. To them, he would be better off dead. 

“The Chantry uses lyrium as a leash,” he said after a pause, his voice even shakier than before. “And Maker preserve me, but it’s an effective one.” 

She was quiet for a moment as she looked at him, her brow furrowed. “You should have told me.” 

His heart sank. This was exactly what he had been afraid of. What had he been thinking? He had known that this would happen if the secret ever got out. Two years clean and his life was still in shambles. Had he really believed, even just for a second, that someone like him could ever truly get close to someone like her? Fear and frustration were rolled up in a tight ball in his chest. 

“I understand if this changes things for you. I didn't mean to…” 

He stopped when he felt her hand on his. Soft fingers gently curling around his. “That’s not what I meant,” she said, her voice softer than he had ever heard it before. He looked up into her face. It wasn’t disgust or rejection he found there. It was worry. “I have forced you to be around lyrium more than once. If I had known, I could have looked out for you. Back that the warehouse…” 

“So you noticed?”

“I did. I just didn’t know what it meant back then! I’m sorry I even brought you into that situation!” She was speaking louder now, clasping his hand tightly in hers. 

“You’re not angry?” He was stunned. He had been so sure. 

“Of course I am angry. But not at you. Whatever you did… Whatever you blame yourself for. You are a victim in this. What they did to you, it wasn’t right. Nobody deserves that.” She squeezed his hand and when he looked up, he was shocked to find tears in her eyes. With the back of her other hand, she wiped them away - an angry, irritated gesture. “But you got through it. You survived this for a reason.” 

He scoffed, he couldn’t help himself. He turned his head, his jaw set. He could not look at her and her tears and her trust in him. Trust that made no sense, not after everything he had told her. “Survived this for what exactly?”

She reached up and cupped the side of his face with her hand, almost tentatively. Gently but determined, she forced him to look at her. “To fight them.” 

For a few heartbeats he just stared at her. Her hand still on his cheek, her thumb stroking over the light stubble she found there. It was almost fully dark now and her eyes were blazing, her gaze intent. When she looked at him like that, he believed her. He believed in everything she saw in him. 

She spotted his tears before he had even realized they were welling up in his eyes. She did not say a word but scooted closer, drawing him into her arms. For a second, he stiffened but when he felt the warmth of her body pressed against his and her hands drawing calming circles on his back, he slowly relaxed. She was so small as he wrapped her arms around her, burying his face in her hair. But she felt solid. She felt safe, somehow. 

They did not speak as they sat in the darkness, holding each other tightly. Silently, he wept the tears he had denied himself for years. The knot in his chest loosened with every sob. He was so used to it, he didn’t know if there would anything else holding him together if it were ever to fully go away. 

He did not know how long they sat like this. But when he gently untangled himself his tears had dried. He pressed a quick kiss on the crown of her head and when she looked up at him, he tried a cautious smile, almost embarrassed. 

“Thank you,” he said, his voice just a hoarse whisper. 

Her smile was equally shy. Perhaps she felt it, too. This shift in the air between them. They had shared something, shown each other a part of themselves they usually kept under lock and key. Cullen drew a shaky breath. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one consoling you?” he asked, partly to break the silence.

Her smile widened but her ears drooped a bit, matching the sadness in her eyes. “I think we can both use some consoling today. And you have done enough for me.” She leaned back, pulling her legs up to her chest.

“What about your friends?” He didn’t want to remind her but he knew he had to. 

She sighed, covering her face with her hands for a moment. “There is not much I can do. Revas people usually go dark for at least 48 hours after something like this and then meet at an agreed-on meeting place. But most of the protesters today were just students. I don’t know what to do.” 

For a moment, they both sat in silence, lost for answers. Cullen wanted to say something comforting. Anything to make her feel less worried, however futile the attempt might be. But before he could even open his mouth, the silence was disrupted by a low grumbling sound and Elaria’s shocked gasp as she held a hand to her stomach. 

The sound of her growling stomach seemed to out of place in their little bubble of confessions and darkness and worry, that both of them just stared at each other in horror for a second. Then, they both started laughing. Cullen covered his mouth with one hand, willing the grin on his face to go away but Elaria had no such restraints. As she threw her head back, the laughter that escaped her lips was almost hysterical. All that stress and all that fear had to come out at some point. 

“Perhaps we could start by finding you something to eat,” he said when she had calmed down a bit and she nodded, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. They got up and she followed him into the kitchen, a tiny room that barely held enough space for two people to work side-by-side. 

“I’m afraid I don’t really have much to offer,” he admitted and opened his small fridge. She peered in over his shoulder and scoffed. 

“This is pitiful!” She crouched down and slid through under his outstretched arm to examine the contents of the fridge. “Butter and water? Seriously?”

“I have bread as well,” he said, realizing how pathetic it sounded as soon as the words had left his lips. 

She looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. “You do know that you’re not in prison, right? Or being held in some dungeon somewhere?” 

She kept mocking him while he toasted and buttered two pieces of bread. From time to time he scoffed or rolled his eyes, but secretly, he was enjoying this. There was something so casual and unforced about the way she leaned against the kitchen counter, telling him all about the dangers of malnutrition. He watched her from the corner of his eye. Standing in his kitchen, wearing his shirt. Waiting for him to make her something to eat - however pitiful the result might be. Despite everything, the blood, the horror, the confessions, it felt right somehow. 

“Remind me to bring you some real food when I come over next time,” she said as he handed her the piece of bread. 

The mention of a “next time” startled him but he covered his surprise with a smile. “I’ll make sure that I do.” 

She looked up, halting in her movement, and the slightest hint of pink rushed into her pale cheeks. Then, she quickly took a bite out of her bread and averted her eyes. 

“You reminded me of something,” he said. “Earlier, I mean.” Suddenly, he felt unsure about his idea. A thought that had come to him in this face of her unwavering certainty. But with nothing left to do, perhaps it was the only way to go. “You are not the first person to tell me to fight them.

She gave him a questioning look but nodded for him to continue. 

“Right after the Templars kicked me out and I went back to my old job, a journalist contacted me. She was a friend of Cassandra’s. I think that’s how she found out about me in the first place. She wanted to write a piece on the Templars. Expose the Chantry, rattle a few cages. But she needed someone who had been on the inside.” 

Elaria swallowed her last bite. “But you didn’t do it?” 

He shook his head, old shame creeping back up. “I was still using back then. And still trying to forget all of that had even happened. Perhaps I was just scared…” He sighed, not daring to look at her. “But I wonder if she might still be interested. She seemed pretty determined back then to take them down. I thought there might have been some personal history there but I don’t know for sure.” 

She thought about it, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “Are you sure you want to go through with that? You know better than most what these people are capable of.” 

“I think we should both go to her.” She gave him a shocked look but he was not deterred. “I’m serious. Part of why the Chantry gets away with these things is all that secrecy. You saw how they cleared out entire blocks so nobody would notice what they did to you on that square. Take that away from them and we might actually hit them where it hurts.” 

“You think people will actually care about a bunch of elves and students being arrested? You have more faith than I do.” The bitterness in her tone cut right through him, even more so because he feared she was right. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But a secret military force attacking citizens within the city? Not to mention those Qunari mercenaries? That has to be worth something.” 

“We have no proof of that,” she reminded him. 

“No, but we could find some.” 

For a moment, she did not answer and just looked at him, arms crossed in front of her chest. Then, a tiny smile curved her lips. “You are enjoying this.” 

“I…” He stopped, slowly realizing she was right. “I think it’s because, for the time in years, I feel like I can actually do something. Act, not just react. Does that make sense?” 

Her smile widened. “Welcome to my world.” She brushed the crumbs from the front oh her shirt and nodded. “Okay, if you’re really doing this, I’m in. Do you still have that journalist’s number? Where does she work?” 

“She writes for The Inquisitor.” 

Elaria’s smile dropped, an expression of utter surprise taking its place. “Are you serious? That is huge!” 

Cullen nodded. The Inquisitor was a weekly magazine that wrote mostly about politics and social issues and was one of the most-read publications in all of Thedas. If he was honest, it had been one of the reasons why had turned down the offer three years ago. The thought of speaking about his experiences and struggles to such a large, anonymous audience still made his stomach churn. But it was different now. He was not alone in this. 

“I’ll see if I can find her number. She gave me her ca–” 

The loud ringing of the doorbell interrupted him and they both froze. Cullen lifted a finger to his lips to bid her be quiet and motioned for her to stay in the kitchen. She bit her bottom lip and nodded. He told himself to stay calm as he approached the front door of his apartment but jumped when someone forcefully knocked on the door from the other side. He had no peephole so he carefully opened the door just a few inches to see who was outside. 

_Qunari_ , was the first thing that flashed through his head and he almost slammed the door shut again before recognizing the man’s face. One of Adaar’s massive hands shot out and pushed open the door with so much force that Cullen had to jump back in order to avoid being hit in the face. 

“Where is she?” he growled as he stormed past Cullen and into the apartment. “Elaria!” 

At the sound of his voice, the kitchen door flew up and Elaria rushed out. With something that sounded awfully close to a sob, she hurried towards Adaar and was almost completely swallowed by his embrace. 

“I’m so sorry, Moki,” she kept repeating into his chest as he stroked her back in soothing circles. “I’m so sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, little one,” Adaar said, the growl from earlier completely gone from his voice. 

Cullen felt awkward at the sight of this open affection. She had been holding back until now, he realized. If for his benefit or for her own, he could not say. But now there were tears in her eyes as Adaar gently lifted her chin to examine the wound on her forehead. 

“Have you heard from Sera?” she asked and when Adaar nodded, he could see the worry falling from her like a leaden weight. 

“She called me two hours ago. She and her friend got out and made it back to her apartment. Just a few cuts and bruises, she said.” 

Elaria slumped down onto the couch as if all strength had left her all of a sudden. “Creators, I thought they had gotten to them.”

Adaar sat down next to her and as Elaria started telling him her story, he began to treat her head wound. Cullen pulled up the chair from his desk and sat down, still feeling strangely out of place in his own apartment. The way Elaria and Adaar interacted with each other was so familiar, it made him realize just how little time he had actually spent with her. How was it possible that he still felt so close to her? That he not only didn’t mind that she knew his secrets but that he wanted her to know them? 

He was torn from his thoughts, when Adaar and Elaria got up from the couch. Cullen jumped to his feet and gave her a confused look. 

“I’m just going to wash off the rest of the blood,” she explained with a smile and pointed to her forehead. He had seen a lot of healing magic in his time but he was still always surprised by how fast it worked. The nasty gash on her face was almost completely closed and even the swelling had gone down considerably. He was sure she would still walk away from this with a scar but it already looked a lot less frightening. 

Without her in the room, the mood became even more uncomfortable. Despite Elaria’s continuous assurance that he was actually a very sweet and gentle guy, Adaar still seemed very intimidating to him, towering over Cullen with a suspicious look on his face. 

“So she tells me, you were the one who got her out of there,” Adaar suddenly said, arms crossed in front of his broad chest. Now that they were alone, he seemed even larger somehow. 

“Yes.” 

For a moment, Adaar just stared at him, his face as unreadable as stone. Then he let out a deep breath. His stiff shoulders slumped a bit and his expression softened. “Then I must thank you. And I owe you an apology.” He offered his large hand and Cullen shook it, still a bit cautious. 

“For what?” he asked. 

“I misjudged you. I can get… overly protective sometimes.” An almost shy smile stretched across the Qunari’s face and Cullen was surprised to find how easily he returned it.

“With friends like Elaria, I suppose it’s not the worst idea to be a bit protective.” 

Adaar’s smile widened. “You’ve noticed, eh?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should have been there. Perhaps I could have…”

“I don’t think there was anything anyone could have done,” Cullen said quickly. “It was pure luck that we got out.” 

Adaar sighed, his smile faltering. “So the Chantry is finally really cracking down.”

It wasn’t a question but Cullen nodded. “I think so, yes,” he said. “They would not risk such an open maneuver otherwise.”

“It seems like you have some insight.” Adaar’s tone was casual enough but Cullen saw the hint of suspicion in his eyes. But there was no point in denying it and he was sure Elaria would tell her friend at least some of the things he had told her. 

“I do,” he simply said, watching Adaar’s face closely. 

“Well, then I’m just glad you’re on our side.”

Cullen sensed the hidden warning behind the words but was saved from having to answer when Elaria came back into the living room. Her face was almost completely free of blood and there was even some color back in her cheeks. Not for the first time that day, he was nearly overwhelmed with gratitude just to see her alive. 

“I hope you’re not talking about me?” she asked and gave them both a small smile. She probably felt the awkward tension in the room as much as Cullen felt it but did not say anything about it.

“Is there any other topic?” Adaar laughed and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Are you ready to go?” 

She nodded but her eyes flicked from him to Cullen and back. “Could you give us a minute?” 

“Sure. But make it quick. Dorian is probably worried sick already.” With one last appraising look, Adaar left into the hallway and closed the door behind him. 

Elaria shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly looking very uncertain. Cullen took her jacket from the couch and carefully helped her into it. After everything, the silence between them felt strange now, almost uncomfortable.

She was the first to break the silence. “And here I thought we had agreed on a date that would involve less running and injuries,” she said as she turned around, suddenly very close to him. 

He smiled wearily. “Believe me, I would have preferred to take you for coffee.” 

She looked at him for a second and then quickly stepped forward to throw her arms around him. It was a quick, fleeting hug. He hardly had time to reciprocate it before she pulled away. Almost bashfully, she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Thank you, Cullen,” she said. “For everything. Without you…” She trailed off, averting her eyes. 

“Don’t say it. Don’t even think it.” He took her hand and pulled her into another hug, more slowly this time, and pressed his lips against her hair. She leaned into him with a sigh. “I will call you as soon as I have news about the journalist.” 

She nodded, stepping back once more. “And I’ll text you when we get home.” 

He noticed he was still holding her hand and he held on for just a few moments longer, softly brushing his thumb over her knuckles. He just wanted to look at her one last time. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. 

One more smile and she was out the door, leaving his head spinning and his heart beating wildly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel the exhaustion of the day slowly creeping in. But there was one more thing to do. He walked over to the shelf by the window and pulled out the little plastic box in which he kept all his business cards. He did not have to look for too long until he found the one he was looking for. Simple font on a thick textured paper. And on the back of it, the handwritten number to a direct line into Leliana Nightingale’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.com) if you're interested.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaria and Cullen meet The Inquisitor and things heat up in the kitchen.

For what felt like the fiftieth time in the last fifteen minutes, Elaria checked her phone. Nothing. She anxiously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It was not like she expected a call or a text from any of her friends at Revas. It had not even been 48 hours since the disastrous events of the protest and most of them would not reemerge from hiding until at least the end of the day. She knew there was no point in worrying until then but some small part of her could not stop thinking about it.

She stepped further back into the shadows of the office buildings that towered over her. Among the busy Monday morning crowd rushing past her on their way to work, she felt more exposed than ever. In this district, her pointed ears and vallaslin made her stick out like a sore thumb. And the last thing any elf in this city needed right now was more attention. There had hardly been any news coverage of Saturday’s protests, just some reports on the police stepping in after some drunk students had started becoming violent. The whole story was such an elaborate fabrication, Elaria was almost impressed by the cover-up.

She checked her phone again. Still nothing. Perhaps, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she had believed that Cullen would cancel on her. He had called last night to tell her that he got an appointment at The Inquisitor and where and when to meet him. But there was always the possibility that he had changed his mind overnight. She did not think he would stand her up without calling her - not when he knew how risky it was for her to even get out of the house. However, if the events of the weekend had shown her anything, it was that there were many things she did not know about him.

When he finally came around the corner and hurried towards her, she let out a relieved breath she had not even known she was holding in. He looked good, she realized. Instead of his security guard uniform or the more casual clothes she had seen him in, he was wearing a dark suit. It looked a bit dusty around the shoulders as if it had been hanging in the closet for too long, but it suited him.

“You clean up nice,” she said as she gave him a quick hug.

“So do you.” He smiled and when she noticed the way he looked her up and down, she could feel a blush working its way up her neck. She felt strangely costumed in her pale green dress with the matching belt around her waist and pumps on her feet. But it seemed appropriate for the meeting they were about to go to.

She shifted the weight of the bag on her shoulder and bit her bottom lip as she looked over to the building on the other side of the street. It was by far the tallest of the neighborhood, a towering monstrosity of glass and steel that rose high into the cloudless sky. The Inquisitor.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked Cullen without looking at him.

He laughed, a low dry chuckle. “No, not really. But we’re here now.” For a moment, he took her hand and squeezed it gently until she looked at him and nodded.

They crossed the street with another wave of office workers which led them straight to the large glass entrance of the The Inquisitor. Somehow it was even more impressive from up close. A continuous stream of people rushed in and out of the high automatic doors and once again, Cullen and Elaria were carried along. Even just a quick look around confirmed that there were no other elves in the crowd, just humans and a few dwarves. Elaria kept her head down and her body close to Cullen, but in the morning rush nobody seemed to notice her anyway.

The entrance hall of the building was as impressive as its exterior. More chrome and glass, accentuated by high ceilings and a blindingly bright marble floor. The sound of chatter and the hurried clacking of heels echoed from the walls and at the far end of the foyer, Elaria could see a row of glass elevators smoothly gliding up and down. The thought of going into one of those things already made her stomach churn.

Cullen looked around and then led her to a long chrome counter to their left. There were two young men in suits sitting behind it. One of the was typing on his computer. The other was talking on the phone while simultaneously trying to appease a furious-looking dwarf who was hardly able to look over the counter. Deliberately avoiding the yelling dwarf, Cullen went over to the man typing on his computer and cleared his throat. The man looked up, a confused look on his face that quickly turned into a dazzling, well-trained smile. Elaria was almost impressed with how little it faltered when his gaze fell on her.

“Welcome to The Inquisitor. How can I help you?”

“We have an appointment with Leliana Nightingale,” Cullen said and both the man behind the counter and Elaria gave him a surprised look. When he had said that he knew a journalist at The Inquisitor, Elaria never would have suspected that he was talking about the chief editor of the magazine. She tried to keep a straight face as best as she could but the could already feel her palms getting sweaty.

The man behind the counter pulled himself together more quickly and gave them another smile. “Of course. Names and IDs, please.”

They pulled out their wallets and slid their IDs over the counter while the man typed their names into his computer. After a few seconds and a careful look at their identification, he nodded and pointed them towards a large chrome door on the other side of the hall.

“You will need to take the high speed elevator all the way to the top. Show the man in front your visitor passes and he’ll let you through.” He handed them their IDs and two laminated passes on simple black cords which they hung around their necks.

As they made their way towards the elevator, Elaria nudged Cullen with her elbow. “Leliana Nightingale? Are you serious?”

He gave her an almost sheepish smile. “Would you have come if I had told you who we were here to see?”

She considered it for a moment. “Yes, but I probably wouldn’t have gotten much sleep beforehand.”

The man in front of the elevator doors, an impressively tall security guard, checked their passes and then let them through without any objections. When the shiny chrome doors shut behind them, Elaria took a deep breath only to let out a little squeak the next second when the elevator shot upwards.

“Fenedhis!” she called out and clutched at Cullen’s arm as she tried to regain her balance. “Please tell me this is all as surreal for you as it is for me.”

Cullen laughed. “I think I’m just better at hiding it.” As if to prove it, he took her hand and lightly put her fingers to the pulse point on his right wrist.

“Oh, your heart is racing,” she said. It was only when she looked up that she realized how close to each other they were standing. With his heartbeat underneath her fingers and his dark gaze on her face, she could feel heat spreading up her neck and cheeks. Something deep in her belly clenched with almost painful intensity.

The elevator came to a halt and with a pleasant ringing, the doors slid open. Elaria jumped back, her face by now probably beet red. If Cullen was offended by her sudden retreat he did not show it. He blinked, looking a bit startled, as if he had completely forgotten why they were here. There was another security guard on the other side of the elevator doors, blocking their view of the long hallway behind him. He gave them a stern look and did not budge, even when Elaria hesitantly lifted her visitor pass.

“Oh, Maker’s balls! Let them through, you big brute,” a female voice called out behind him and only then did he finally step back. A tiny woman, almost as short as a dwarf, came running down the hallway, a tablet computer in one hand and a phone in the other. It was only when she came closer that Elaria realized that she was an elf. “I am so sorry,” the woman exclaimed. “Miss Lavellan and Mister Rutherford, I presume? Please follow me.”

She didn’t give them time to do more than nod before whirling around and hurrying back the way she came. Cullen and Elaria followed her as quickly as they could. Even with her short legs, they had trouble keeping up as she led them through a maze of empty but startlingly bright corridors. Elaria had completely lost all sense of direction after just four turns.

They stopped in front of a seemingly unremarkable door, just as plain and nondescript as all the others they had passed. The woman knocked sharply on the dark wood and then opened it without waiting for a reply. Before either of them could say anything, she ushered them inside, closing the door behind them.

It was a large conference room, equally as white and chromed as the rest of the building with a large table in the middle and high windows overlooking the financial district and the old city center beyond. At the end of the table, there were two women. One was sitting on a chair, while the other casually leaned against the edge of the table. At the sound of the door, they turned around.

Elaria recognized them immediately and it took all of her not to gasp. The woman in the chair was Josephine Montilyet, the official face of The Inquisitor. Elaria must have seen her face at least a thousand times on posters and television screens. When she got up, she seemed shorter than the pictures had let on, but she was somehow even more stunning in person, with dark long curls and a striking aquiline nose. It took Elaria just a second longer to place the other woman’s face, a tall red-head in a finely tailored pantsuit and staggering high heels.

“Ms. Nightingale,” Cullen said, obviously quicker to regain his composure than Elaria. “Ms. Montilyet.” With a confidence that surprised her, he approached the women and shook their hands. Leliana Nightingale, chief editor of The Inquisitor and known as Puppetmaster to her competitors, was an imposing woman and after she had shaken Cullen’s hand, her eyes flicked to Elaria who was still standing by the door.

“Mr. Rutherford,” she said without taking her eyes off Elaria. “I’m pleased you could make it. Won’t you introduce us to your friend?”

Cullen turned around and gave Elaria an encouraging smile. “This is the elven student I was telling you about. Elaria Lavellan.”

Elaria finally shook off her starstruck stupor and stepped closer. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. Ms. Nightingale studied her, a tiny sharp smile on her lips that made Elaria feel strangely exposed. It was only when Ms. Montilyet walked around the table and shook her hand, that she relaxed a little bit. The famous Montilyet smile was even more breathtaking in real life.

“Please sit down,” she said, gently guiding Elaria to one of the chairs. “Would you like something to drink? We have this marvelous sparkling water from the Emerald Graves.”

While Elaria was still grappling with the fact that Josephine Montilyet was pouring her a glass of ridiculously fancy looking water, Cullen was obviously impatient to get to the point of their meeting. “We are grateful that you agreed to see us on such short notice,” he said as he sat down next to Elaria. Ms. Nightingale took a seat on the opposite end of the table, still with that little smile on her face. “I’m afraid the matter is becoming more urgent by the minute.”

“One the phone, you said you were willing to tell your story,” Ms. Nightingale said, a heavy Orlesian accent tinting her words. “Three years ago, you were not. What changed?” Her smile widened. “You must excuse my caution in these matters but when it comes to the Chantry, I have been burned before.”

Ms. Montilyet sat down next to her partner but not before giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We are more than interested in your story but going up against the Chantry is risky. Even for us.”

Cullen took a deep breath and Elaria could feel him tensing up next to her. She would have liked to take his hand, calm him somehow, but she was not sure if it was appropriate in this kind of setting. So she sat still, nervously kneading her hands in her lap.

“I thought to get over what happened, I needed to get away from it. To forget it,” Cullen said, his voice strained. “But I realized that the Chantry will not stop. They will keep coming. Perhaps not after me but after others. People like me. And people I care about.” He looked over to Elaria and she was suddenly painfully aware of the still clearly visible gash on her forehead. “Somebody needs to stop this. Somebody needs to speak up. And if I don’t do it I am no better than those who do the Chantry’s bidding.”

The two women watched them for a long silent moment. Then, a smile spread across Ms. Nightingale’s face, wider and more genuine than the ones she had shown them before. “You’re passionate,” she said. “I like it. What do you think, Josie?”

Ms. Montilyet nodded. “I think we can make something out of this. But this needs to be water-tight. If you want us to tell your story, you need to tell us everything.”

And so they did. As best as they could, at least. Cullen had promised Elaria beforehand that they would not mention Revas’ involvement. It was not her secret to tell. So she focused on the student protest instead. Relived the moments on the square. The screams. The running. Cullen, as far as she could tell, left out nothing. He told them exactly what he had told her two days before. When she shot him a sideways glance, his face seemed set in stone.

Both women were good listeners. There were no interruptions, no judgement, until Cullen ended his story with how he had rescued Elaria from the Templars. Only then did they start to ask questions.

“Your friends, the other students, are still missing?” Ms. Montilyet asked Elaria, her expression full of sympathy.

Elaria nodded and swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Some of them, yes. I have not heard from them since Saturday. But like we said, this is not the first time that elves have gone missing without a trace.”

“Ah, yes.” Ms. Nightingale leaned back in her chair. “The Qunari mercenaries. I have to admit that this is the one part of your story that could be a little problematic.”

“I agree,” Ms. Montilyet said. “If we can prove that the Chantry is working with mercenaries like that, we could deal them a significant blow. But without evidence, a claim like this is more likely to hurt us than help us, I’m afraid.”

Elaria worried her bottom lip and looked to Cullen for help. His jaw was set but he nodded. “What if we could get you that evidence?”

Elaria was sure that she looked just as surprised as the women across the table. What was he talking about?

“If you can provide the evidence, we will run the story,” Ms. Nightingale said without hesitation.

“Of course, we will run your stories even without that,” Ms. Montilyet added. “But I agree, the Qunari mercenaries would be what takes this from personal tragedy to political scandal. People would respond well to that.”

It was a surprisingly crass observation from someone who looked to gentle but Elaria knew she was right. If they really wanted to hurt the Chantry, they needed proof that they were working with foreign military against their own people.

“We can get the evidence,” she said. She was not sure how. She was not even sure if Cullen had a plan. But she knew she had to try.

Ms Nightingale searched her face for a moment before nodding. “Very well. In the meantime, I’d say we schedule an extensive interview with you about the events at the protest. The sooner we print it, the more likely we are to help your friends that are still in custody. You need to change the conversation. Give those students a face.”

“That said, you wouldn’t be open to actually showing your face by any chance, would you?” Another dazzling Montilyet smile. “It would be so much more effective than an anonymous interview.”

“No!” Cullen said before Elaria even had the chance to open her mouth. “It’s too dangerous.”

She gave him a sharp look but the worry in his face was strangely moving. “I’ll think about it.” It would be a bold move. And dangerous, Cullen was right. But at this point, she was willing to do whatever it took.

“Wonderful,” Ms Nightingale said and pushed back her chair to get up. “I think we could do it the day after tomorrow, if that is alright with you. But we will give you a call.”

The meeting was apparently over and Elaria scrambled to her feet, shouldering her bag. She looked over to the clock that hung on the wall by the door. They had not even been here for an hour. Still a little bit dazed, she shook the women’s hands. Ms. Montilyet held hers for just a moment longer and gave her a warm, genuine smile.

“Whatever happens now,” she said, “ you are not alone in this anymore.” She seemed different then. Not the journalist or the public figure hiding behind clever words and appearances. Just a woman with honest concern in her eyes.

When Elaria and Cullen stepped out into the hallway, they were awaited by the tiny woman who had picked them up the elevator before. “Follow me,” she said and led them back through the maze of corridors. They did not speak until the doors of the high speed elevator closed behind them and they were alone once more.

Without thinking, she slipped her hand into his and squeezed. The skin of his palm was calloused and rough and she found that he was shaking just as much as she was. “We did it,” she said. “We actually did it.”

He nodded, gently squeezing back. “It’s only just the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

The drive to Cullen’s apartment went by in a dizzy haze. Elaria felt giddy with excitement and as Cullen drove them downtown, she could not stop talking. Whenever she looked over at him, she found him smiling, a soft warm thing that brightened up his entire face. He had rolled down the windows and with the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, she felt something like hope blossoming inside her chest for the first time since she had seen the Templars storming the square.

It was only when they were back the apartment and Cullen closed the door behind them, that the feeling of awkwardness caught up with her again. She stood in his living room which was oddly dim without the sunlight streaming in through the windows and too quiet without the noise of the city. Her gaze fell on the couch and memories from her last visit came rushing back to her.

Cullen seemed to sense the change in her mood because he came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She nodded. “I think so. Just…” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we? This is going to work?”

“I hope so.” She appreciated that he did not lie to make her feel better. After another second of silence, he reached out to take the bag from her hands. It was a big shopper and obviously a lot heavier than he expected. “Maker, what do you keep in here?”

She blinked, completely confused for a moment. When she realized what he was talking about, she could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks. “Oh no,” she breathed, trying to take the bag away from him. “It was meant to be a surprise!” The whole thing felt incredibly silly to her all of a sudden. And him looking at her like that only made it worse.

“A surprise?” he said, trying and failing to hide his smirk.

There was no point in hiding it now. “I brought food,”she said, feeling more embarrassed with every word.

His smirk was replaced by an expression of honest surprise. “Food?”

“Well, you know, we talked about it on Saturday?” She could hardly look at him. “Because of your empty fridge? I thought… Creators, I thought I could cook something for you. As a thank you. Something Dalish. But if you don’t want to… I’m sorry. It was a dumb idea.” She was babbling, trying to fight the irritation building up inside of her.

But then she felt his hand on her shoulder again. “No, it wasn’t.” She looked up. He was smiling. “I would love to. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever tried Dalish food. But I’m sure it’s going to be better than buttered toast.”

She let out a deep breath. The ball of anxiety in her stomach loosened a little bit and she took the bag from his hands. “I would hope so.”

They went into Cullen’s kitchen and she unpacked the contents of the bag. “It’s just a simple dish,” she explained as she piled small containers with spices onto the counter. “Just barley and beans and some greens. And lots of spices.”

Cullen took the packet of green beans from the counter and gave her an incredulous look. “You took these into our meeting at The Inquisitor?”

“Oh shush, you!” She grabbed the packet out of his hands but could not help but laugh as well. “Nobody noticed.”

“You’re incredible,” he laughed.

She pulled the last item from her bag, a large dark glass bottle. From the corner of her eye she could see Cullen stiffen at the sight.

“Don’t worry,” she said quickly and handed him the bottle. “It’s not alcohol. It’s a Dalish specialty, made from plums. Very sweet. We call it halsiun.”

She watched him fill a glass with the dark purple liquid and take a careful sip. At the taste, his eyes went wide.

“It’s good”, he said. “But intense.”

She smiled and took the glass from him to take a sip as well. The flavor burst on her tongue, tasting of home and summer. When she licked the last drop from her bottom lip, she could see Cullen’s eyes flick to her mouth. Quickly, she turned back to the groceries again and started ripping open the thin plastic wrap that covered the container of green beans.

She could still feel him behind her, heat radiating from his body. The kitchen was too small to keep much distance between them.

“What do you need me to do?”, he asked, his voice so close that she almost jumped.

She let him wash the greens but it became soon obvious that he had no idea what he was doing. So in the end, she did most of the cooking while he leaned against the counter and watched her, a glass of halsiun in his hand. He kept filling the silence with stories about his cooking misadventures and she laughed quietly as she worked. Somehow, she could not shake the feeling that he purposefully avoided talking about the events of the morning or the mountain of problems that still lay in front of them. But she was grateful for the distraction. It felt almost normal like this. Like they were just a normal couple.

As soon as her mind formed the thought, she almost dropped the spoon she used to stir the steaming contents of the pan in front of her. She caught it just in time but it clanged loudly against the side of the pan. Cullen moved from his spot at the counter and closed the short distance between them.

“Is everything alright?” he asked and his smile had grown just a little bit uncertain.

“Y-yes.” She scrambled to regain her composure. “It’s just… It’s almost done. Do you want a taste?”

He nodded and pulled a fork from a drawer. Carefully he scooped up bits of barley and beans from the bubbling broth. When he took the bite, his eyes went wide once more - but this time it was shock rather than surprise. Elaria could practically see the blood rushing to his face as his eyes started watering. He swallowed with great effort and took a sharp breath.

“Spicy,” he wheezed and Elaria quickly reached for the glass of halsiun that was still on the counter.

“Here, this helps,” she said and kept one hand on his arm as he emptied the glass in two big gulps. It was only when he let out a relieved breath and wiped the tears from his eyes, that Elaria could not hold in her laughter any longer. “I’m so sorry,” she said, failing to hide her grin behind her hand. “I completely forgot that you have weak shemlen taste buds.”

Cullen refilled his glass, shaking his head in disbelief. But there was a small, almost embarrassed smile on his lips. “I just wasn’t prepared for that.” He took another sip of halsiun. “Maker, I thought my mouth was on fire.”

Elaria laughed, a bright loud sound in the enclosed space of the kitchen. When she looked down she realized that her hand was still on his arm, her fingers slightly curled around his sleeve. He had followed her gaze and when she pulled away, it almost seemed like he made a move to hold her back. The air between them was thick with tension once more, a sensation she had almost gotten used to. But now in this small space, it seemed overwhelmingly real, somehow.

She turned around and turned off the stove. “It helps to eat it with some bread,” she said, just to say something.

“Elaria…”

She ignored him, words falling from her mouth. Desperate to fill the silence as she could feel her heart beating in her chest and him moving in close behind her her. “If you think this is spicy, you should try Qunari food. Adaar makes this stew. It made Dorian cry once. Even I can hardly eat it. It’s really good, with beef and those tiny black peppercorns and…”

He was so close now, gently putting his hand on her shoulder and turning her around. She followed, too focused on keeping her eyes from his. She looked at his chest instead. Her heartbeat was so loud by now that she was sure that he must have heard it as well.

“I could make something else for you. I could…” The words fell away and she swallowed. His warmth, his scent. It was all so close and drawing her in even closer.

“Elaria…”

She kept her eyes trained on the buttons of his shirt, ears twitching nervously. She wanted to look up. She wanted to… How had this ever been so easy? Why was she blushing now? Why was heart beating so furiously?

She knew the answer. This wasn’t just a stranger on the street. This wasn’t just anyone. It was Cullen. There was more now, so much more. After everything, the running and the fighting and the tears, the thought of messing this up suddenly lay upon her heart like a weight of lead.

Slowly he reached up and curled his fingers under her chin. He tilted her face up and when her eyes finally met his, all her doubts fell away.

“Oh,” she breathed. His amber eyes were dark and his face so close she could have counted the light freckles that dusted his cheeks. “Hey.”

He smiled. That wonderfully crooked thing that made her heart beat even faster. “Hey.”

He was closer still and she swallowed as her gaze wandered down to his mouth, to the scar that cut through his upper lip. “Hey.” Just a whisper now.

Another smile, so wide and warm she could hardly breathe. “You said that.”

And then his lips were on hers, soft and firm all at once. Her eyes slid closed and she breathed him in. It was nothing like the last time. He kissed her slowly, gently. His lips moving against hers almost hesitantly. A kiss like a question mark.

His hand hand wandered down, fingertips trailing over her skin until they reached her neck, gently holding her. When his thumb lightly pressed against the pulsepoint on her throat she made a sound, not quite a gasp but enough to make her blush.

She could feel his free hand ghost over her hip and up her waist. But before he could really touch her, he pulled away. She chased his lips then, just an inch. Just like he had on that first day. She opened her eyes to find him smiling.

“That was… nice,” he said breathlessly.

“Nice?” Her head was spinning, the world around her a haze. “Really?”

His smile turned sheepish and his hand shot up to rub the back of his neck. “Perhaps a poor choice of words.”

“Very poor,” she agreed and then his mouth was on hers again as she pulled him down into a second kiss.

His hands wandered to her waist, gripping her tightly as she snaked her arms around his neck. The curls at the nape of his neck were just as soft as she remembered them and when she laced her fingers into his hair, he let out a little moan that went straight to her core.

He pulled her closer, his lips never leaving hers. One hand on the small of her back and the other in her hair. The kiss was so much more forceful now, she did not even notice that she was backing up until her back hit the edge of the counter. She let out a surprised sound and could feel him smiling against her lips before the tip of his tongue brushed against hers. That was enough to make her knees almost too weak to stand.

As if he had read her mind, his hands were suddenly both back on her waist and without breaking the kiss, he lifted her onto the counter as if she weighed nothing. She laughed, a delirious sound from deep in her chest, as he blindly swept away things on the counter with one hand so she could sit comfortably. Something that sounded suspiciously like a box of leftover beans landed on the floor but neither of them cared.

They were finally at the same height like this and she pulled him close to deepen the kiss. But then his hand was in her hair again, gently pulling her head back to expose her throat. His lips wandered and when they hit the spot where his mere thumb had made her gasp before, she let out a sound that would have embarrassed her in front of anyone else.

Her world had shrunk to the simplest sensations. His lips on her throat, the slight scrape of his teeth, the gentle swipe of his tongue. His fingers in her hair, tugging just hard enough to send shivers down her spine. His other hand on her waist, down her hips and finally resting on her thigh. Fingers almost casually dragging across her naked skin.

She gave a start and he broke away, his eyes wide and dark. His hair was a disheveled mess of curls. It took her a moment to realize what had startled her. She looked down. He was between her legs and her dress had ridden up her thighs. He followed her gaze to his hand that was still on her bare skin, his thumb drawing little circles on her inner thigh.

“Oh,” he said, starting to pull away. “Too fast?”

Quickly, she covered his hand with hers, holding him in place. When he looked at her, she gave him a small smile. “Don’t you dare.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and worked her way down, his stubble slightly scratching underneath her soft lips. Just featherlight kisses down his jaw and neck until she reached his collar. Her fingers were shaking when she reached up to open the first button.

She did not get far. When she unbuttoned the second one and placed a small kiss on the exposed skin, Cullen made a low growling sound at the back of his throat. Strong hands found their way to the small of her back and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. Closer to him. She could feel him between her thighs, pressing against her in a way that made her gasp.

The sudden movement left her dizzy and she looked up at him through hooded eyes. She was panting, her chest rising and falling, straining against the suddenly too tight dress. Too tight, too hot, too much. Something in her stomach was fluttering like a caged bird as she watched his eyes flick to her lips.

His kiss was a needy hungry thing. Lips crashing down on hers, her body flush against his chest. She locked her ankles behind his back and when rolled her hips just slightly, the moan that ripped from his throat left her breathless. She felt nothing but his hands all over. Tasted nothing but sweet plums on his tongue. Heard nothing but her own blood rushing so loudly in her ears that it drowned out everything else.

And then suddenly, he was gone. The absence of his lips was almost painful. Panting, she opened her eyes. Completely disoriented. Cullen looked equally startled. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth bruised but he was blinking as if to clear his head.

“What…” She sounded winded.

“Your phone,” he said and it took her a moment to understand. To hear what he was hearing. Faintly, she registered the ringing through the haze.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She kept her legs around his waist as she craned her neck to look for her phone, not ready to let him go yet. But he was quicker, reaching for the phone next to the stove. He handed it to her, an almost sheepish smile on his face.

“This thing has a talent for interrupting us.”

“At least it’s not the frog sound this time.” The rest of the joke got stuck in her throat when she read the name on the phone’s display. Her heart started beating fast - now for a completely different reason. “It’s Nathaniel.”

With shaking fingers she hurried to accept the call, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Elaria?” His voice sounded strained, hounded somehow.

“I’m here!” she called out. Just hearing his voice, knowing that he was alive, was enough. She pressed a hand against Cullen’s chest, as if to steady herself. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He stopped but she could hear the noise of a busy street in the background so she knew the call had not been interrupted. “Listen, Elaria. I have some bad news. Something has happened.”

She could feel the fear creeping up her spine like cold blooming ice. Slowly she untangled herself from Cullen who looked at her, a worried expression on his still flushed face. Reality snapped back into place, hitting her like a fist to the face.

“I understand,” she said, surprised by her own calm. “Where do you want to meet?”

It had only just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaria pulls back and Cullen is all in.

He could see it in her eyes, the moment when she pulled back.

“I understand,” she said. “Where do you want to meet?”

He heard a voice on the other end of the line but could not make what was said. As Elaria listened, she pushed him away. Not forcefully by any means but distracted. She did not look at him but her eyes darted around the room. He stepped back but kept one hand on her knee as if he were afraid she would just vanish into thin air. Perhaps that was exactly what he feared.

“Give me one hour,” she said and ended the call. Worrying her bottom lip, she stared at the phone in her hands.

“Elaria,” he began but before he could get any further, she hopped off the counter.

“I need to go,” she said, not meeting his eye. With one hand she tried to straighten her disheveled hair, to no avail. The skirt of her dress was rumpled and when she finally turned around to look at him, he saw that her cheeks were still flushed. “Where are my shoes?”

“Elaria, wait.” He tried to take her hand but she twisted her body away from him and slipped through the open kitchen door into the living room. “What happened?”

“I need to go,” she repeated and got on all fours to pull her shoes out from under the coffee table. “You don’t need to drive me. I can walk.”

He made another step towards her but stopped when he saw her stepping back. “Please. Just… talk to me!”

She stood in the middle of the room with her shoes in her hands, looking more lost and smaller than he had ever seen her. “They released Nathaniel,” she said. “But the others… I need to go. I need to help.”

“I can come with you. I can help. If you let me.”

Something dawned on her face and it took him a moment to realize it was anger. Her body had gone rigid, her shoulders stiff and her hands curled into fists. “Don’t you get it? The whole word has gone to shit! There are people still missing. People being taken! And we have been busy distracting ourselves. Playing house!”

Disappointment coiled in his stomach, cold as ice. He shook his head. “Playing house? Is that what this is to you? Nothing but a distraction?”

She turned away from him. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” He desperately tried to keep his voice from growing louder. His skin felt too tight, too hot, and he dug his nails into the flesh of his palms just to ground himself. “Am I the one distracting you? From what? From Revas? From changing the world? Or from getting yourself killed?”

“Oh, is that how it is?” She spun around, her eyes burning straight through him. “You save my life and now I owe you? I have to be eternally grateful?”

The accusation hit him like a punch. It was an ugly twisted thing and for a second the anger in her eyes flickered. “What are you talking about? You don’t owe me anything!” The hurt in his voice was real and he made no effort to hide it. “Is that what you think of me?” The thought that he could see him like that hurt more than anything. More than her pushing him away. More than her trying to leave him behind.

Her shoulders slumped, all strength gone from her. “No.”

“Then why? I don’t understand.” He could still taste her on his tongue and feel her underneath his fingertips. But the way she was standing there made him think she may as well have been standing a million miles away from him. The silence between them was like something physical. A brick wall, unbreakable and insurmountable.

When she finally spoke, her voice was almost too quiet for him to make out the words. “You make me happy.”

“What?” It was the last thing he had expected to hear.

She didn’t meet his eye, turning around once more to face the window instead. “When I’m with you, I’m happy. I…” She sighed. “I know the world out there is falling apart. But when I’m with you I can almost forget it. For a little while.”

He wanted to go to her, cross the distance between them. But something in the way she held her head told him not to. He said her name without even thinking about it.

She folded her arms and shook her head. “I can’t forget it. I can’t shut it out. Not now.”

Somehow, it made sense, in a way. In others, it made no sense at all. He remembered the way she looked at him in the alley, blood on her face and panic in her eyes. He remembered the lifeless body of the boy he carried into his car. The faces of a handful of strangers in a warehouse. Air too thick with fear to breathe.

“Let me help,” he said, finally daring to step closer. “You don’t need to… It doesn’t need to be anything else if you don’t want it to be. But we have started this together. I want to help you see this through.”

She looked up, arms still crossed in front of her chest. “I want it to be. Something else, I mean. But right now I don’t know how.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

Close enough to touch now, he stopped himself. “You don’t owe me anything.”

She flinched at the words. “I never should have said that. It wasn’t fair.”

He wanted to pull her back into his arms, even if just for comfort. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Will you allow me to help you at least?” For a few torturous seconds he believed she would say no. That she would turn around and run from him again. But the moment passed and she nodded. “What do you need?”

She smiled, just a little bit but it was enough for now. “I need to go home and get out of this dress. And then… How do you feel about another visit to the industrial park?”

 

* * *

 

They stopped by Elaria’s apartment and she went upstairs to change while he waited in the car. When she closed the door behind her and headed into the house, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. It had been a long day which was about to get longer and he could feel the beginning of a headache creeping up the back of his scalp. It would only get worse, he knew that.

At least it was enough to distract him from the hollow feeling in his chest. He didn’t want to feel disappointed. Compared to everything that was happening, compared to what was at stake, her rejection should have seemed insignificant. There was a little nagging part of his brain that replayed the events in his kitchen over and over again until he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep his mind from wandering further. An almost too familiar coping mechanism by now.

_Selfish_ , he thought. _How could you be so selfish?_

The passenger door opening ripped him out of his thoughts and he was glad for it. Elaria had changed into jeans and the same black hoodie she had worn during the night at the warehouse. She looked pale and her ears twitched nervously as she fastened her seatbelt.

“Tell me where to go,” he said and hoped he sounded confident enough for the both of them.

She led him back to the industrial park. With the sun setting in the west, the streets between the warehouses and office buildings were almost completely empty. In a smaller backstreet, Elaria jumped out of the car to open a tall iron gate leading to the dusty yard of a moving company. It wasn’t the same warehouse as before but a large garage with a smaller building right next to it. Cullen parked next to a large white moving truck and got out of the car.

“It’s back here,” Elaria said and Cullen followed her to the back entrance of the smaller house. He could not see any lights but the door was unlocked and when he came closer he saw that the windows of the upper floor where all obscured by some sort of black foil.

Elaria stopped at the front door, one hand on the door knob. “Thank you for this,” she said without turning around. “You don’t have to…”

“I’m with you,” he said. No doubts now. He put his hand on her shoulder and felt her tense up. Just when he wanted to pull back, she reached up and cupped his hand with hers, squeezing just lightly before she pushed open the front door and stepped into the darkness.

The ground floor seemed to be the office of the moving company. Cullen could make out computers and piles of paperwork on the desks around him as Elaria led him to the backroom and then up a ridiculously narrow spiral staircase. More desks and more piles of paper, albeit in a much more chaotic fashion. There was another flight of stairs at the end of the room and at the top a small wooden door.

She had barely knocked when the door was flung open and she was pulled inside by someone very short and very strong.

“Sigrun!” she wheezed as she tried to free herself from the embrace but the dwarf who had her arms wrapped around her was stronger. It was only when she noticed Cullen still standing in front of the door that she let go of Elaria.

“And who are you?” Kind eyes in a face that was made for laughing, Cullen thought. Not for the worry that now carved deep lines around her mouth and dark circles underneath her eyes.

“This is Cullen,” Elaria said and pulled him forward so she could close the door behind him. “A friend.”

He expected more skepticism but Sigrun just nodded and led them out of the small foyer and into the living room. It was a small place with dim lighting and an almost depressing decor. Dark wood furniture and drab faded wallpaper only contributed to the stifling atmosphere of the room. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke and dusty paper. Not a place for living but a place for hiding out.

Cullen did not know what he had expected. Perhaps a similar gathering as at the warehouse. To him, Revas was still a shadowy, mostly faceless thing. That they would meet in places like this seemed only fitting to him. But when he stepped into the room, there was only one other person leaning against a heavy wooden table under the tinted windows. It took him a moment to recognize the man. Nathaniel’s face was almost entirely obscured by an impressive collection of bruises and cuts. One of his eyes was swollen completely shut.

“Creators, Nathaniel!” Elaria quickly crossed the room and lifted her hand as if to touch his swollen face. She stopped herself just before her fingers made contact with the purple skin of his right cheek. “What happened?”

“They had… questions,” Nathaniel said. “Not that they were particularly interested in answers…” He turned to Cullen and gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement. “It’s good that you came this quickly.”

Elaria’s eyes wandered over the rest of the room, a steep line in between her eyebrows. “Where are…” She stopped and balled her hands into fists. “They didn’t let them go?”

“No.” Nathaniel shook his head. “They didn’t.”

Hot anger coiled in Cullen’s stomach. He shouldn’t have been so surprised. Cassandra’s words were still echoing loudly in his mind. The Right. The implications too horrifying to repeat.

“Merrill? Velanna?”

“Still in custody, as far as we know.”

For just a second, the panic was plain of Elaria’s face but when she turned to Sigrun she had replaced it was something close to a reassuring expression. “I’m sure Velanna will be alright.”

Sigrun smiled but it was a weak strained thing. “I’m more concerned about any asshole that even tries to lay a hand on her.”

Elaria squeezed her hand. “We will get her out. We will get all of them out.” She looked up, as if daring someone to object but was only met with murmured agreement. Cullen felt sick to his stomach.

“That’s the plan,” Nathaniel said. He went back to the table and after a moment of hesitation they followed him.

Spread out on the table, there was a map of the city, held down by two empty coffee mugs on one side and a stack of paper on the other. On the first sheet Cullen recognized the official crest of the police department over a copy of the week’s duty roster for Lowtown. It shoudn't really have been surprising to him that Revas had a contact at the police.

Nathaniel followed his gaze and pulled a few blank sheets of paper over the roster. Cullen figured his distrust was probably a good sign.

“As far as we know all non-elves who were arrested at the protest have been released by now. But none of our elven people have been so I think it’s safe to assume that they are keeping all the elves they took that day.”

“What about Fen’Harel?” Elaria asked and Cullen could not help but notice the quick look she shot him over the table. He thought he had heard the name before but could not quite place it. “Has anyone heard from him?”

Sigrun huffed. “Do you honestly think he’d call one of us?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Elaria shook her head. “No, not really. But I thought after the protest…”

“He is not at the university,” Nathaniel said. “If he has gone into hiding… You know the protocol.”

“He would want us to get them out.”

“Are you sure about that?” The contempt in Sigrun’s voice was unmistakable and jarring and Cullen could see Elaria stiffen.

“If it means that we will get them out, then yes. I am.”

Sigrun’s smile was bitter but the pride in her voice when she spoke was real enough. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“It will not be easy.” Nathaniel ran his hand through his hair and winced when his fingers brushed against the swollen bump on his temple. “The place where they kept us seemed very well guarded. And I don’t know where exactly they are keeping the elves.”

“They separated you?”

“Yes, immediately,” Nathaniel said. “Different buses, different holding cells. Most of the humans and some of the dwarves were questioned. But I think they mostly just wanted to scare us.”

“But they were in the same building? The elves?” Cullen asked and could feel all eyes suddenly on him. He tried to keep his gaze on Nathaniel but could not help but squirm a bit under the attention. “Did you see any of them after getting to the location where they kept you?”

Nathaniel hesitated, his eyes flicking to Elaria and then back to Cullen before speaking again. “Yes. They drove us around the city for at least two hours. I assume to confuse us. But I would recognize the stench of the river anywhere. And when they finally let us out of the bus, I could see some of them on the other end of the yard.” He stopped to think for a moment. “It looked like a shipping yard. Lots of containers. But the building itself was different. Weird architecture.”

“Tevinter?” Once again, all eyes were on Cullen. He made a nervous gesture with his hand. “Sort of… spiky?”

Nathaniel nodded, still wary. “Yes.”

“I know the place,” Cullen said and stepped closer to the table to tap his finger against the spot on the map. “It’s an old Tevinter military base. Left over from the occupation. The Chantry bought it a few years back.” He remembered the place vividly with its spiky towers and high windows. As with most Tevinter architecture they had put more emphasis on appearances than on practicality but both the building and the surrounding grounds had been perfect for drill exercises. After a moment of silence, he realized that the others were still looking at him, waiting for an explanation. When his eyes flicked to Elaria, she shook her head just slightly.

He was saved by Sigrun who stepped back and made a noise that could have very well been a sob. “And you didn’t see Velanna anywhere?” She sounded desperate and Cullen could see the pain on Nathaniel’s face when he turned to her and shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry. But she was… unconscious when I saw her last. She would not have been able to walk with the others.”

It was not much of a comfort but Sigrun reached out and squeezed his hand anyway.

“So if they are still there,” Elaria said, “we need to get them. Find a way inside.”

Nathaniel shook his head again. “There is no way. Not there. You did not see the place, Ela. It was full of these masked guys.”

Something in his voice had Cullen straightening up. “Qunari as well?”

Another hesitant look. But then Nathaniel sighed. “I can’t be sure. There were voices. Just snippets of conversation. But I think so, yes.”

Cullen shot Elaria a look and found her already staring at him. She nodded discreetly. It was a start, the first real hint at where to find the evidence they needed for The Inquisitor.

It was a fool’s errand. No, more than that. It was a suicide mission.

Despite the determination on their faces, these were just civilians. Despite the mantle of Revas, they were just people. Willing to face soldiers and mercenaries with nothing but hope and anger. The chances of surviving this… Cullen closed his eyes at the memory of the Elaria’s bloodied face.

Without him, there would be no chance at all.

“There is a way inside,” he heard himself say. “Through the sewer system.”

“And are you going to tell us how you know this?” Suspicion had finally gotten the better of Nathanial and Cullen could not fault him for it. Elaria shot him a warning look.

“I used to run security on the place. I know all the ways in and out.”

“What makes you think they don’t?” Sigrun asked.

“The probably do,” Cullen admitted. “But the entrance has been barred for years. There will be the least security, if any.” He pulled a piece of paper from the stack and started drawing a rough outline of the what he remembered of the building and the surrounding property. “We’d be coming up from the river. There are iron bars here and here.” He marked the spots on the map. “We’ll be needing a cutting torch.” He looked up into the faces surrounding him, all of them serious and determined. Hysterical laughter bubbled up somewhere deep in his chest. This was all too absurd. Just this morning, he had been in a meeting with the chief editors of The Inquisitor. Just a few hours ago he had lifted Elaria on the counter of his kitchen and kissed her until he could not think straight. And now he was here, planning to break into an old Tevinter military base. With a cutting torch.

“We will need help with this,” Sigrun said. Cullen didn’t think he had ever heard a bigger understatement.

Elaria nodded. “I will ask Moki.”

“That won’t be enough.” Nathaniel stared at the map, his hands balled into fists on the tabletop. “We need people who have done this sort of thing before.”

A sharp intake of breath made Cullen look up. There was a gleam in Sigrun’s eyes and almost something like a genuine smile on her lips. “You want to call the Warden, don’t you?”

Cullen expected confusion. Outrage. Perhaps even laughter. Anything to mark the absurdity of Sigrun’s statement. Anything but the affirming nod that Nathaniel gave her.

“Yes, I think it’s time.”

A suicide mission, Cullen decided. Definitely a suicide mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


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